Back in their Day
by BlackToWhite
Summary: Harry travels back to the year 1977, where he teaches DADA at Hogwarts - to his parents. Will he change everything for good? Or will he create the future as he knows it through his actions? Read to find out!
1. The Arrival of the Stranger

**A/N: Alright, this is my first work of FanFiction. The scenario is pretty overused, but I quite like it, so I decided to give it a try anyway. I am very glad about any kind of review that I get, even flames, though I hope that that's not all I get. **

**I will try to stick to canon as much as I can, but because this story features time-travel, it will necessarily be somewhat AU-ish in some places. Any ideas as to how I could make this story closer to canon are welcome.**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. All the characters and places that you recognize are J.'s creation. The plot's mostly mine, though I will let some parts of her books flow into this as well.**

**Back in their Day**

**Chapter 1 – The Arrival of the Stranger**

"All the new faces – welcome at Hogwarts! And to all the old ones, welcome back! A few things before the feast, after which you are probably to full to listen to an old man talk." As Dumbledore said this, many people grinned – that was just typical Dumbledore, to insult himself in such a pleasant manner. "As always, I want to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to enter – as the name should suggest, really." The piercing blue eyes of the Hogwarts headmaster flashed over the crowd, resting on four seventh-year students a fraction of a second longer than on the rest of the Great Hall, who was pretty much as an entity looking at him. Two of the four boys, of which one was rather short, but athletic-looking boy with messy black hair, hazel brown eyes and round glasses, whereas the other was tall and wiry, with his shoulder-long black hair falling elegantly on both sides of his head and his gray eyes twinkling in amusement, just as those of his friend were. The third boy, a tall and rather peaky looking youth with sandy-coloured hair that had already begun to gray at his temples and kind amber eyes, was completely unfazed – he seemed to have drifted off into a light sleep. The fourth of the group, a pudgy boy with a pale face, watery eyes and mousy-brown hair squirmed slightly as the Headmaster gazed upon him, although there was nothing accusatory in his gaze, rather concern paired with amusement.

After Dumbledore had waited for a few seconds, he continued his speech. As soon as the Headmaster's gaze left him, the boy with the black, messy hair shifted his gaze from the headmaster to a very pretty redhead that was sitting a few feet down the long table he was seated at as well. She was quite tall, with a slender figure, had a kind face and curves in exactly the right places. However, what ensnared him most of all were her eyes. They were almond-shaped eyes in a piercing emerald green. He sighed dreamily and, with all his might, focused his attention on the Headmaster, absent-mindedly fumbling with a small silver badge on his robes.

"…has been expanded to a number three-hundred twenty-five. All of those interested in what these objects are, feel free to check out the list that can be viewed on Mr. Filch's door." The elder man paused for a second and, for the first time since the beginning of his speech, looked his age. "I also have more serious matters to discuss - ("Cool! That's about me!", the boy with the elegant black hair cried out, joyously, which caused his friends to groan and the boy with the sandy-coloured hair to smack him on his head.) - but that can wait until after the feast. Tuck in!"

Most of the student population didn't need to be told twice and they dug into the food that had suddenly appeared on the tables at various speeds. Conversation ensued, mostly focusing either on the holidays of the others or the mystery issue that Dumbledore wanted to address after the feast. When the last speck of dessert had vanished, Dumbledore stood up again, looking rather old again.

"Now, I regret to have to inform you that I have not yet been able to find a suitable Defense Against Dark Arts teacher. I will continue my search of course, but - "

"No, you won't." A quiet yet perfectly audible voice sounded from the entrance of the Great Hall. Everyone spun around, shifting their attention to the new arrival. Standing in the doorway was a tall, young man who appeared to be slightly above Hogwarts age. He was wearing a long black travelling cloak that was flapping around his ankles as a sudden breeze swept through the open door into the hall. His feet were, unlike with most wizards, not clad in boots, but in plain black Muggle sneakers. His hood was pulled up, therefore his facial feature were invisible to the people of the hall. However, everyone instantly sensed that this man was a wizard of great power – he was radiating it like heat. Instantly, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn had their wands trained upon him.

"Who are you?" The Headmaster asked in an even voice, though one could hear that it shook ever so slightly if being very familiar with Albus Dumbledore. He was obviously contemplating the possibilities concerning the arrival of this mysterious stranger and, being in war times, automatically jumped to the worst conclusion. If the stranger should attack, then there could be casualties amongst the students, something that the elder wizard sought to avoid at all costs.

Although nobody could be sure, many people would, when asked about this incident later, proclaim that the man was smiling when he answered. "I have come to apply for the Defense Against Dark Arts position, which, as you just said yourself, is still vacant." Some of the teachers and a great deal of students starting mumbling amongst each other, but if Dumbledore was shocked, he masked it well.

"How can I be sure that you are no supporter of Voldemort?" He expected the mysterious man to flinch like next to everyone in the hall did, but he didn't even seem to notice that Dumbledore had just uttered the name that nearly every wizard of the country feared. The new arrival didn't answer, however – he simply pushed up the left sleeve of his cloak, to reveal a pale, muscled arm that was disfigured by many scars, gashes and cuts. Not many people knew what this was supposed to unveil – what could a scarred arm tell the Leader of the Light and Hogwarts Headmaster about the loyalties of the man that was standing in the entrance? – but whatever it was, Dumbledore seemed to accept this, as he nodded.

"What are your qualifications? You seem to, forgive me for putting it bluntly, be very young to be a teacher." This time the arrival was definitely smiling, for amusement was evident in every syllable of his answer.

"Well, I am eighteen, but I think we agree that not age, but qualification is relevant for this job, isn't it?" The man raised his voice ever so slightly during the second part of the sentence to make himself audible above the crowd, who started to speak in hushed voices upon hearing his age.

"Indeed it is." Dumbledore answered, nodding. Upon noticing that his wand was still trained upon the arrival he lowered it, causing his colleagues to do the same. "Forgive me. So, what are your qualifications?"

"Do you want to see for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" The elder wizard asked, sounding a little confused for the first time.

"Let's duel."

In a matter of a split second, the hall went deathly quiet and all the people who had turned to fellow students or colleagues for talking snapped their heads at the new arrival, expecting him to be joking of some sort – clearly he couldn't hope for a victory against Dumbledore? But nothing of his appearance seemed to show that he was joking. His eyes (though no-one could see them) were boring into the Headmaster with a ferocity that everyone felt, who looked genuinely surprised and disconcerted. But after a fraction of a second, he quickly arranged his face in a nonchalant mask and smiled at the young man in the doorway. "Of course. Let's go to the Entrance Hall, shall we?" The man nodded once and Dumbledore stood up, after walking around the teacher's table, crossed the hall in quick strides. This seemed to break the ice and the students started whispering again – this had to be a feast full of firsts, as nobody could remember Dumbledore having ever interrupted the Opening Feast before. Students and teachers alike stood and followed the man with the flowing beard out of the Great Hall into the large Entrance Hall, where they spread around the room, leaving a space in the middle where the two duellers were circling each other already. When everyone had filed out of the Great Hall to watch the spectacle, the mysterious man waved his wand once and a silver cage expanded over him and Dumbledore.

"It absorbs all curses, so that no-one gets hit by a stray curse." Dumbledore nodded, looking thoroughly impressed and pulling his wand from his midnight-blue robes.

"What are the curse restrictions?" The Headmaster asked in a very professional manner, leaving no doubt that he had once been a professional duellist.

"No Unforgivables." Was the curt answer he received from the stranger. He waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything more than that. Instead, he raised his wand like a sword and bowed to the Headmaster, who mirrored this gesture a split second later. As they both raised their heads again, Dumbledore attacked first, shooting a silent stunning spell at his opponent, who deflected it with a lazy flick of his wand, only to retaliate a split second later in equal silence. He shot a jet of blinding white light that no-one recognized at Dumbledore, who erected his shield just in time to stop it, though he swayed on spot slightly. However, instead of using this momentary moment of weakness, the stranger merely brought his wand down, without a visible curse being shot at Dumbledore. Seemingly nothing happened. Only a loud crack overhead told the spectators as well as his opponent what he had done – one of the torches on the wall behind him had been wrenched out of its haltering and was now hurtling at Dumbledore at an amazing speed. However, the Headmaster had regained his control in the fraction of a second that the stranger had given him. With one fluid wave of his wand, he banished the torch, over the heads of the students and teachers that were watching in awed silence and conjured a fiery whip that slashed across the stranger, who hadn't brought up his wand in time – obviously, he had not expected that Dumbledore would defend and attack with one wand movement. However, he did not crumple as the majority of Hogwarts had been expecting, but raised his left hand in a fluid cutting motion, like a knife. The fiery whip lashed out and fell to the floor, still writhing – it had been cut cleanly into two. Dumbledore, too shocked by this move, didn't even try to defend himself against the last attack, a Disarming Spell that had been fired not even a second later. It hit Dumbledore and his wand sailed out of his hand and into that of his opponent.

A shocked silence followed this breathtaking duel. Nobody had ever seen Dumbledore lose a duel, or rather could have imagined this happening (most people had never him in a duel, anyway). Then, like lighting a fire, awed muttering broke loose among teachers and students alike. Dumbledore, however, had already regained his composure. He was smiling warmly at the mysterious man in the black travelling cloak that was still wearing his hood.

"Congratulations. You're hired." Was all that the aging headmaster said. "What's your name?"

"Ethan Jameson." The stranger said, hesitating for a split second, something that Dumbledore and the amber-eyed youth in the first row noticed, whose eyes narrowed. Whispers broke out again, this time more loudly than before, but even the people with the best connections to the Ministry had never heard this name. Who could this be? A wizard, more powerful than Dumbledore that they had never heard of before? Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling like mad again, turned his focus from Ethan Jameson and faced the pupils.

"I think that that is all. You may go to your dormitories. Sleep tight!" Not many students favoured being dismissed like this, especially after this breathtaking performance, as they all wanted to know more about Jameson, but no-one, not even those certain members of the Slytherin house who sneered upon Dumbledore dared to disobey an order from him, for no matter how friendly he had worded it, it was clear that it was one. As the prefects led the first-years out of the Entrance Hall, along with the older students (though some of them took shortcuts), the Headmaster turned on Jameson again. "May I speak to you in my office?" He said, his blue eyes piercing into the still-hooded man, standing there in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Said man nodded and, with a wave of his wand, the silver cage disappeared. Meanwhile, the Entrance Hall (with very vocal aid, courtesy of Professor McGonagall) had nearly emptied already and, after bidding the remaining teachers good night, the two men strode up a staircase at their right.

* * *

><p>"Did you see that?" The chubby boy with the mouse-brown whispered to his friends as he pulled a tapestry showing a Paracelsus brewing a potion of a rather nauseous colour. He was obviously awed by the skill that their new Defense teacher had demonstrated. The boy beside him pushed his silky hair out of his vision with casual elegance that would have made every girl swoon, had there been any present and rolled his eyes at his friend's question.<p>

"Obviously, Wormtail. We were standing right beside you." As Wormtail blushed, one of the two boys just behind them clapped the speaker onto his shoulder, causing him to be whirl around and to stare into his hazel-brown eyes behind the round glasses. He was looking at his friend with what should be a disappointed look, but said boy didn't quite manage it.

"Now, now, Padfoot. Be nice." He mock-chastised, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the insincerity in his eyes. Truth be told, he was just as amazed by his new teacher just as much as his friends were. But there had been something else. He couldn't quite place it, but the teacher had given him the impression of knowing him from somewhere. But from where would he know him and why wouldn't he remember a wizard of such prodigious skill, even if they had met before? Well, maybe he could work it out the next day, when they had their first DADA lesson with him. He turned to the fourth member of the group, whose eyebrows were furrowed – he appeared to be deep in thought.

"What's up, Moony?" The boy asked him, ruffling his black, messy hair with his hand, succeeding only in making it even more messy.

"I don't really know." Was the answer that he got. "It's just… did you notice that he hesitated before saying his name?"

"What d'you mean?" Padfoot asked, who was listening to their conversation with one ear, just as they turned a corner and could see the portrait of the Fat Lady at the end of the corridor.

"I have no clue. But… you don't really stutter with your own name, do you?" Finally getting what Moony was hinting at, Padfoot snorted.

"You think he's got a false name? C'mon Moony, that's bullshit."

"Doesn't have to be. Maybe he's… I dunno, a target for the Death Eaters or something… I mean, he's powerful to have them interested him, isn't him? And…"

"…he changed his name to disappear." The boy with the messy hair concluded. "That could be."

"Yeah. If you ignore the fact that he just turned up at a place where You-Know-Who has spies." Wormtail objected, surprising the others. He always appeared to be a little slow sometimes, but he had quite extraordinary amounts of insight in some topics.

"You're right, Pete." Moony said, frowning again. "That doesn't really make sense."

"Well," Padfoot began. "we might find out more tomorrow. You know, in class. I'm too tired now, to be honest."

"That's just an excuse 'cause you can't think." The messy-haired youth teased. Moony and Wormtail snickered lightly while Padfoot pouted.

"Harsh, Prongs. Harsh."

"Oh shush. _Epiphany_." The last word was directed at the Fat Lady, who nodded at the four of them and swung forward to reveal a small hole behind it, through which the four boys climbed. They passed through the comfy Common Room and walked up a staircase at the far end of the tower, where they found a circular room with five four-poster beds. Their luggage had already been brought up to their rooms, so they merely got their pyjamas out of their trunks, brushed their teeth quickly and fell onto their beds, too tired to continue their discussion any further. They fell asleep even before their fifth dorm-mate Frank Longbottom had entered the room.

* * *

><p>"Well, Mr. Jameson. Do sit down. May I offer you a drink?" Dumbledore asked the younger man pleasantly, who had settled down on a chair in front of him.<p>

"No thank you, Sir."

"Call me Albus, now that we are colleagues."

"Alright, Albus." said Jameson, finally pulling off his hood to reveal his face. It was severely scarred in many places, the most eye-catching one being a very fine scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. His black, shoulder-long hair, which was messier than that of Padfoot, though, was pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were blue, but somewhat dull and lifeless, as though they had suffered through too much pain to carry on. Dumbledore eyed him critically, his eyes resting a tad longer on the scar on his forehead than on his other features.

"Can you tell me a little about yourself?" He inquired, once he had finished his scrutiny. Jameson hesitated, then nodded.

"But this has to stay between us, alright?" Dumbledore nodded, wondering what Jameson wanted to tell him that of such importance.

"My name is not really Ethan Jameson. My name is Harry Potter."

"I see. Are you related to James Potter, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, by any chance?"

"Yes, I am." The man said. He hesitated again, then he spoke again. "I'm his son."


	2. Pain and a Paradox

**A/N: Okay, the second chapter is up. I thank all of those that reviewed for the first chapter - you guys are great!**

**dontblameme33: What I meant with canon was canon to the backstory of Harry. I read many stories of these that changed what happened before he travelled to the past massively. I won't do that, but stick to canon regarding this.**

**Nicky L: Harry's eyes sure are green, but he cast a concealment charm on himself before travelling to the past. It'll come up in the story, too.**

**Okay, about this chapter: I really wanted to update today, so forgive me slight grammatical and orthographical mistakes - I will edit it sometime soon as I don't really like it, but tell me what you think, especially about the angsty stuff at the end, which I found quite hard to write.**

**Okay, enough rambling. Here's the disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Have fun with the chapter!  
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**Chapter 2 – Pain and a Paradox**

_"My name is not really Ethan Jameson. My name is Harry Potter."_

_"I see. Are you related to James Potter, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, by any chance?"_

_"Yes, I am." The man said. He hesitated again, then he spoke again. "I'm his son."_

Upon this revelation, Dumbledore's face portrayed something that it rarely ever did: surprise, genuine surprise. Not a flicker of it in his eyes, but full-force surprise written all over the face of this aging wizard. Harry snickered slightly at the look on his former mentor's face – he couldn't remember that anything had ever surprised Dumbledore, to his knowledge, that is. _Well,_ he reasoned, _meeting a time traveller could do that to you. _He would probably react just the same, though. Still, it was hard to imagine the omniscient Leader of the Light with such a befuddled expression on his face.

"James Potter's son?" Albus Dumbledore had to ensure himself that he heard correctly – for though he had never, despite his age, had hearing problems in his life (magic could do wonders, after all!), the alternative to having heard wrong was – even though technically this grammatical form didn't even exist – even _more _impossible.

"Yes, I am. As you probably guessed – judging by your disbelieving expression – I am from the future." And yet it was true. Dumbledore sighed, after arranging his features again, though the surprise was still there.

"But time travel is -" He stopped there, not wanting to say _impossible_, because it was clearly possible, seeing that this young man that was most definitely not lying (though being magically skilled beyond anything that Dumbledore had ever seen, he had also sensed that Occlumency was not Jameson – no, Potter's strength, but had yet refrained from invading his head). Dumbledore shook his head, and began again. "How did you accomplish this amazing feat?" To his surprise, the young Mr. Potter grinned at him, as if they were sharing an inside joke, though Dumbledore had no idea what joke that could be.

"I managed to this with your help." _With the help of your portrait,actually, _Harry mentally corrected himself. "You gave me the knowledge and the spells to do so, though you, if I can trust the words of your future self, had spent more than two decades on researching this topic before it was finally possible to travel into the past."Again, Harry had to mentally correct himself, for time-travel had already been made possible by time-turners by the year 1987 – travelling back for _years_ was the novelty of Dumbledore's work. But he didn't dare to mention this, as time-turners had not been invented in this time.

"Why would I do so, however?" Dumbledore asked, as he respected the laws of nature, after all and he didn't want to imagine what would happen if he decided to breach them – and yet he had done so in the future. Harry, however, only smiled mysteriously at him, something that irked him greatly (which Harry could see on his face and which he found pretty ironic, seeing that Dumbledore was doing the same thing all the time – apparently, he didn't like being out of the loop).

"Well…" Harry hesitated. How much could he tell Dumbledore? "You're worried about disrupting the natural timeline, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." The elder wizard nodded. Again, Harry grinned at him.

"You don't have to worry about this." Harry seriously contemplated stopping his explanation at this point, with a full-blown twinkle in his eye, just to see how Dumbledore would like it be left out like his future self had done to Harry for seven years and his present self with a probability to many others. But this moment quickly passed – he knew that, while not acting infallibly, that Dumbledore had always tried to do the best for everyone – he had always known far more than most others and had carried the burden that came with it. "You see, your future self told me that in 1977, a mysterious stranger appeared to take the DADA post by the name of Ethan Jameson. And during the one year that he stayed, he did something pretty important." Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "He saved James Potter's life."

* * *

><p>"So… what d'you think of him?" Alice Smith asked the girls of her dorm.<p>

"Who do you mean?" Dorcas Meadowes asked, even though she knew whom Alice meant, but feigning stupidity – she loved winding Alice up like this and it worked every time. Sure enough, it worked again, as Alice rolled her eyes in a manner of complete exasperation.

"Jameson, of course, you… you dork!" Alice said quite loudly – she had the habit to become loud and sassy pretty quickly, but once you got to know her, she was a really good friend in all aspects. She desperately needed to work on her insults, though, as her friends quite often told her, and calling _Dorcas _ a _dork_ definitely hit rock-bottom, which Marlene McKinnon was – as always – quick to remark. "Yeah… anyway. What d'you think of him?" Alice tried to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters, in attempt to breach on a topic that her roommates found equally interesting and that saved her from severe embarrassment. Dorcas saw her round face blushing crimson and decided to take pity on her – she would have more than a year to tease her, she didn't need to begin on the first day.

"I dunno… of course he's pretty powerful and all that, but that doesn't mean that he's a pleasant guy and all that, right? Sure, it'll be interesting, but I can't really say if I like him, you know what I mean? Don't get me wrong – he's fucking powerful and all that, but… I don't know. Maybe this just seems too good to be true after… what is it? Five crap professors in a row?" Their previous professor, a guy called Ryan Edwards hadn't taught them anything really – they had simply read from the textbook. They knew that he had been a capable duellist, but it didn't help that he had two children their age (they were being homeschooled) and, because of this, sugar-coated the subject of DADA to an extreme – he nearly declined the existence of the Death Eaters, in the name of _keeping them safe_, of course. The teens knew that nobody wanted to apply for the job anymore and that Dumbledore had to take anyone who wanted to take the position and who wasn't completely inept, but it still frustrated them that their first year professor, an ex-Auror who had to quit his job because of a severe injury by the name of George Crysner, had been their most competent, because the only purpose of first year's DADA class was, as most of the student population considered it, compensation for sleepless nights.

Alice and Marlene affirmed Dorcas' statement while undressing, but Lily Evans didn't – she was rather looking as though something was bothering her greatly as she pulled her long red hair into a ponytail, as she always did before sleeping.

"Lily? You okay?" Marlene asked, as she snuggled under her covers in her underwear.

"The new guy… Jameson. I don't know… when I saw him, heard his voice, I had a really weird feeling… something that I've never felt before… as though he were a… a part of me or something." The moment that Lily said these words she felt stupid – something which happened quite rarely! – but she couldn't think of any other way to word this feeling. Sure enough, though, teasing comments ensued.

"Ohhhh…. Maybe he's your one and only!"

"The guy you are predestined to be with!"

"The one to pick our pretty Lily's flower!" Marlene got hit by a pillow in her face for that comment.

"Oh shut up. This is serious. Really, I…" Lily broke off. Even though it was really there, she knew that this was a feeling that she couldn't explain to the girls. She finished undressing and laid herself onto her comfy bed. "Anyway. Sleep well." She said, effectively cutting any discussion short as she turned to the wall and closed her eyes, her thoughts still circling around Ethan Jameson...

* * *

><p>"Excuse me? You saved James Potter's life before you were even born?" Dumbledore asked, once again surprised to no ends. This conversation was unlike any other conversation he had had over all the years – he always been prepared, kept an impassive mask, ever since that fateful day on which he had committed the worst mistake of his life. Since then, he had always been prepared, had given the direction of the conversation – until this one conversation with this person that baffled him like no-one had ever before. And his answers weren't really helpful as well, they only added to his confusion.<p>

"I did." Harry said, not grinning this time, but looking very solemn. "It's a paradox, I know. I've thought about it for a really, really long time – ever since your future self told me of this journey – but I only succeeded in getting a headache, 'cause how do you explain something that you can't explain? But that's the way it is, that's pretty much the only thing that I'm sure of. I won't be changing the natural timeline with this – for lack of a better word – visit, it happened all along. Or will happen? Whatever." Harry tried to explain the situation that he couldn't really understand himself, but he thought that he got the point across fairly well.

Whether or not Dumbledore understood this concept and what Harry was trying to convey with his speech, he nodded politely once, then he stood up, looking very businesslike all of a sudden. "Well, Mr. Jameson – may I call you Ethan?" By shifting to his alias, he signalized to Harry that the personal part of this conversation was over and that they were, as his demeanour had already suggested, were switching over to business – Harry was far too used with Dumbledore's ways to be surprised by this sudden change of subject.

"You may, Professor."

"Then call me Albus, Ethan. This is you timetable." he handed Harry a sheet of parchment that he quickly overlooked, seeing in joy and more than a little panic that he would be teaching the Marauders and his parents the first thing in the next morning. "As to the curriculum, there hasn't really been a fixed one for all the years, therefore I trust your judgement as a capable expert on the Dark Arts and the defence against them to come up with one of your own. I just have one favour to ask of you: please cover the Unforgivables in the Sixth and Seventh Years – if you think it to be necessary, in Fifth Year as well – the children really need to know what they have to expect out there, in the war – no matter what the Ministry says about this. Alright?

Harry nodded – he had already planned on teaching the Unforgivables as the first or second lesson, ever since Dumbledore had told him of the mission that had to accomplish in the past. "You're right. That is really a necessity for them to know. Would you allow me to perform the Imperius Curse on them?" Harry asked, blurting out with the last part – he didn't know how Dumbledore would react to this, but he thought this to be very important, especially with the war raging openly beyond the gates of Hogwarts. However, he didn't know if Dumbledore had really ordered the fake Mad-Eye Moody to perform the Imperius Curse on the students and was therefore unsure how the Hogwarts headmaster would react – he valued the safety of the students a lot.

Dumbledore eyed him a long time and Harry started to feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Even though he was more powerful than the elder wizard, he hated the thought that he might disappoint him or somewhat with his assessment – Dumbledore's respect still meant a lot to him. Finally, however and much to Harry's relief, Dumbledore nodded. "You may. Better they learn in class than being hit unawares out there. However – I probably don't need to tell you, but – be careful. An Imperius Curse performed while the mind is not focused…" Dumbledore let this sentence stand in the room – there was no need for him to finish it. After a few seconds of silence, he eyed Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "I am placing a great amount of trust in you. I hope that you won't disappoint me."

Harry nodded coolly, albeit squirming on the insides – no matter what he had experienced, Dumbledore's gaze still seemed to X-ray him, right down to his bones. He stood up, recognizing the dismissal and slung his travelling cloak over his arm. "Goodnight, Prof- Albus." He said and turned to the door.

"Should I -"

"No need, I know were the quarters of the Defense teacher are." With these words, Harry reached the door and left the room.

* * *

><p>Outside the room, Harry stood still for a second – he had completely forgotten the power of Dumbledore's gaze and it made him quite uncomfortable to feel it upon him again, something he would have though impossible after the death of his mentor. Then he shook his head and walked on through the empty corridors of his first home, the thoughts that he had been suppressing since his arrival resurfacing again, most prominent the face of Dennis Creevey.<p>

"_Colin stunned me when he left to go fighting. He said that I was too young. And you know what else he said? He said that he couldn't die. He would be safe. Because Harry Potter had been his teacher. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. How could he lose, how could he die, when _you_ had trained him?"_

_Dennis face turned into a twisted mask full of regret, spite and hatred, before turning into a sick smile while bowing closer to a petrified Harry. "He died for you." His voice was so quiet that any other sound would have drowned it, but the Great Hall, where Dennis was standing in front of Harry, was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop."You failed him. He always said that you would come and save us all. He really believed it. I did as well." Dennis voice dropped even further, his brown eyes sparkling with a ferocity that drove Harry back. "But guess what? It was all a lie. All of it. He died, fighting for a hero that came a few hours later – that never came for him." His grimace turned into a smile. "You were a great teacher. Too bad that that didn't stop the Death Eaters cutting him into pieces. And even then, he was smiling. 'Cause he believed in you. Until the end." Dennis' voice was sick and sweet now. "Sleep well, Chosen One."_

Harry felt the urge to throw up, to cleanse himself of the nausea that swept through him whenever he thought of it. In some ways, it irked him that Voldemort was gone now. There was no fighting, no bloodshed anymore – but that left only his and his dire thoughts, thoughts that were haunted by the victims of those that his actions had caused. It was silly, really, but Harry had hoped that this trip to the past would help him to flee these thoughts. Nothing of this sort happened – why should it? Here he was, in the past, unable to change anything – would he be able to change anything anyway? Or did his actions in the past shape the future that had already happened to him? He couldn't do a thing and yet the voices inside his head were telling him that he could, that he should, that he shouldn't be so damn selfish. The guilt burned inside him like fire and yet like ice – hot and yet cold, aggressive and yet numbing. What did he feel? He didn't know – but whatever it was, he was alone, all alone with himself and the pain.


	3. Unforgivable

**A/N: Alright, chapter three is up. The first lesson, with the Unforgivables. I don't know if it's to angsty, but I figure that Harry would be like that, that he would blame himself for the deaths of everyone and that he wouldn't talk about and get a little insane. That's what's happening here. Don't worry, he will be snapped out of it. He'll also become closer to his parents, but he doesn't know them yet, so he's kind of awkward around them and tries to stay as a professor and stuff like that...**

**Okay, disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Chapter 3 – Unforgivable**

Harry Potter, or – as he was now calling himself – Ethan Jameson, awoke, sweating and panting in his bed. His pillow was wrinkled and wet in a few places, though he didn't know if that were tears or drops of sweat – both was possible, really. He had kicked his sheets to the floor during the night, something that didn't really surprise him – ever since he had had the time to rest, his past had mercilessly caught up with him and visions of the horrors that he had experienced flashed through his sleep every night. Sirius falling through the Veil, suddenly turning his head towards him and pleading for help with his face, fully well knowing that it was no use… Hands of rotten flesh closing around his neck, dragging him down, deep into the dark where no one would ever find him again… A beautiful young woman falling like a puppet whose strings had been cut, accompanied by cruel laughter and a flash of green light… _his mother, _he thought_._ She was alive, sleeping in the same castle as he was, innocent and unblemished. And she would die. In four years, her body that was now so full of life would become nothing more but an empty shell. He could tell her, help he-

No.

He couldn't.

The timeline couldn't be changed. It had already happened and if he told her, she would die just the same. Or Fate would shift his bloody and cruel destiny on someone else – he couldn't force his life on someone innocent. He couldn't. And yet –

Harry got up, shaking these bitter thoughts from him. He quickly got dressed in black sweatshirt (an old one of Dudley's that his cousin had worn at the age of twelve and that now, at the age of eighteen, fit Harry perfectly), sweat pants and trainers – he had noticed that is still early in the day, but he knew that it would be impossible to find sleep again, so he might as well go out flying. He shouldered his Firebolt and slowly walked through his first home, relishing in its unscathed appearance – even after nearly a year after the Battle of Hogwarts in Voldemort had forever fallen, the castle bore scars of the battle – just like everyone and –thing else, actually. Walking among these halls that would always remind him of the death and destruction that had occurred there, something that he knew would always cause him pain and discomfort. But this – this castle that had yet to see the cruelty of war – reminded him not of the battle, but of the many hours of happiness he had experienced here with his friends, a feeling that he hadn't felt for quite a long time.

After a rather extended stroll through the halls of Hogwarts, he finally reached the gate. After hesitating for a moment, he simply raised his hand and it opened, recognizing him as an authority figure. He walked through it and took a deep breath of the cool, clean morning air. The sun was just rising and was peering over the mountains that surrounded the castle as a large orange disc. With one more breath, Harry mounted the broom and took off into the morning sky.

And the moment that his feet left the ground, all his troubles, his worries, the looming, accusatory faces left him as well. Only euphoria and bliss travelled his body, spreading through him and warming his from the inside. This was it, the true life, where he truly felt happy. Up and up he went, higher and higher until the cold air was burning in his eyes. The cold awakened him and yet he was impervious to it as he felt truly alive for the first time in ages (there had been a lot of tedious work to do in the aftermath of the final battle, and – and this was the reason that Harry hadn't been on a broom, enjoying for such a long time – how did he deserve happiness, a content feeling, when so many had been ripped from this life, falling, in the name of his defence? But now, he felt nothing of this – only joy that was so intense that it nearly caused him physical pain).

Some thousand feet up, he steadied his broom and looked around. He was higher than he had ever been before, overlooking all of the Hogwarts grounds. The huge castle seemed no bigger than one of the plastic castles that he had seen many Muggle kids at primary school play with, the Forbidden Forest looked like an uneven, dark green rug that spread for miles. Only the gray mountains still towered above him, like ancient guardians of a treasure long forgotten.

Harry pulled his broom into a slow dive before accelerating more and more, until he was nearly falling free through the air. The wind whipped his eyes, yet he kept them open, every sense of his body alert as adrenaline rushed through his body.

100 feet.

50 feet.

20 feet.

10 feet.

5 feet. At this point, he pulled out of the hairpin dive, his shoes almost brushing the soft grass of the Hogwarts grounds as he shot up into the skies again, spiralling like a hawk in its dive. He smiled to himself, feeling content for the first time since what felt like ages. The feeling of flying through the skies, not having to worry about dying any second, with no Dark Lord on his heel, was something that he couldn't have ever put in words.

After approximately half an hour, Harry ended his flying session reluctantly. The sun was slowly creeping atop the mountains and he knew that breakfast would start soon. He hurtled from the sky one last time, this time drawing to halt only one or two feet above the ground and dismounted his broom, euphoria still filling him. However, what he hadn't counted on was a young boy in shabby sitting on the wet grass, who was watching him intently with amber eyes. Harry was quite surprised upon seeing his honorary uncle and mentor at such a young age – he had counted on a few hours more to prepare himself for that – but he quickly arranged his features after his initial shock into a genuine smile.

"Remus Lupin." He greeted the sandy-haired boy with a nod, whose turn it was now to be surprised. How did this new arrival know his name? Smiling gently, Harry answered the question that had formed upon the werewolf's face. "Professor McGonagall warned me about you and your friends at the opening feast. She said that I had to be careful around you." Remus smiled, but he looked a little nervous all the same – he was probably a little unsure how to be with the new teacher. Sensing his discomfort, Harry took over the conversation.

"Do you often come out here in the morning, before sunrise?" Remus nodded.

"Yes. I'm an early riser, unlike my dorm-mates." He grinned weakly. "You fly very well. I watched you for a while." Harry felt himself blush – no matter how often he heard one, he simply couldn't handle a compliment.

"Thanks. Do you fly?" He asked, not feigning ignorance, but really not knowing. Remus shrugged.

"I do, sometimes, and I'm not half bad. But I'm no Quidditch nut like James – James Potter, a friend of mine and Gryffindor team captain." He added, mistaking Harry's faraway look for confusion. Harry snapped back to the teenager that he would be teaching.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall mentioned him as well. He's quite a prankster, isn't he?" Remus scrutinized him carefully. This was always the problem, in his opinion, with new teacher (mostly DADA teachers, because they changed every year) – one never knew how to behave with him. Would affirming this statement cause the professor to keep an annoying watchful eye on them? Or would he rather be secretly amused, like Professor McGonagall? _Well_, Remus conceded,_ he'll find it out anyway, won't he?_

"Yes, he is." This answer intrigued him for it showed that Remus already trusted him a little. With a sudden jolt he realized that he had never found out anything about the Marauders and their pranks. Biting himself on the tongue to prevent himself from asking – for he knew that that would make Remus suspicious, if he knew of the Marauders or anything connected with them – he asked another question

"What did you cover in your last years of DADA? I haven't seen any notes of that sort and Dumbledore was rather vague as well." He didn't particularly need to know this now – he could always ask in the first lesson – but he desperately needed to shift the conversation from these dangerous waters before he said something stupid.

"Well…" Remus began, thinking back. "First, second and third are pretty much forgettable. We talked a lot about theoretical stuff about jinxes and hexes and stuff like that, but we didn't really do anything practical. Fourth year, we did Dark creatures, but the teacher was quite incompetent. He couldn't really handle the stuff – he knew the theory, but he hadn't had any experience before." Remus shuddered at the memory – they had treated werewolves and one lesson he had brought a silver plate with him, as an example for what could be used effectively against them. He had passed it around and it had taken all of his willpower to not faint. "Yeah… Where was I? Right, fifth year. We did a lot of theory that year and the teacher performed some stuff, but we didn't actually do things ourselves. Curses were the topic, I think. Yeah, curses. But only minor ones, nothing Dark or really big." Harry nodded, but he couldn't stop himself from frowning slightly at this description. That sounded about as bad as his Defence education and he had really thought that that had really hit rock-bottom. How had they passed their O.W.L.'s? They hadn't had a club like the D.A., after all.

"And your sixth year?" Remus face contorted in distaste.

"Nearly worthless. The guy had kids our age, though they were being homeschooled, and he sugar-coated everything. Maybe because he thought of us a substitute for his kids that he couldn't see over the school year, I dunno. He mainly told stories that were only very, very loosely related to the Dark Arts, if at all. When someone complained about that, he taught us a few charms and hexes, like the Shield Charm or something like that for two or three lessons, before being sick for nearly a month and then, for'medical purposes', as he put it, reverting to his original teaching style." Remus' facial features and his twitching eyes told Harry, who was watching the young boy closely (mostly out of habit) told him that he had been the one to complain, but that he didn't want to stand out. He grinned to himself – Remus was just as he had been when he had known him. Forcing himself not to think of Remus' dead body, lying in the Great Hall with cold eyes, he stood up from the cold grass and started to slowly to walk toward the castle, his Firebolt on his shoulder. It was now only twenty minutes to breakfast and he wanted to take a shower before eating. Remus stood up as well and accompanied him, Harry taking the conversation up again.

"So we have a lot to catch up." Harry said dryly, his mind already on the things that the Seventh Years had to learn. _Patroni… Wandless combat… Duelling… _"What did you say?" Harry asked, Remus' unheard question pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I asked whether you always went outside in the morning, Professor." Remus asked and watched in shock as the expression of his professor turned from a light, pleasant one to a dark face that looked so much older the eighteen years that it was.

"Nightmares." Was the only answer that Remus got and he sensed that this wasn't a topic that he wanted to discuss. They had reached the large doors of Hogwarts and both strode through. Harry quickly turned to the right. "See you in class, Remus." He dismissed the young teen curtly and strode up to his quarters, his mind once again with the faces of the dead. _We died for you. We all… _He violently shook his head, but the accusing faces remained. _Unforgivable._

* * *

><p>Remus stood there were Professor Jameson had left him, confused. What kind of nightmares could a young man, only a year older than himself, have that could cause him to retreat within himself in such a way? And why did he look at him when he asked that question, not mad for bringing up such a topic, but only terrible sadness and pain in his eyes? It didn't make any sense in the least.<p>

Being deep in thought as he slowly trudged towards his Common Room, he didn't notice the person coming his way until they had almost walked into each other.

"Oh, hello Remus!" He was greated by a young, very pretty woman with emerald eyes and red hair. "Nice to see you. Why are you up this early?" Remus shrugged. Truth be told, he didn't know himself.

"I dunno. I just woke up and couldn't sleep anymore." Lily nodded, watching the wiry boy intently.

"Are you alright? You look… I dunno, troubled." Remus smiled weakly.

"Do I?" Lily nodded again, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I met Professor Jameson outside and we talked a little."

"And? What's he like?"

"He's quite nice. You can talk quite well with him and I brought him up-to-date with what we had done in DADA the last few years. But at the end of the conversation…" Remus explained the whole episode to her. When he had finished, she looked quite pensive. Finally, she spoke up.

"I don't know, Remus. You might be reading too much into it. Maybe you remind him of someone that he knew once or something."

Remus nodded, even though he knew that that was not the case. He didn't quite know why, but he was sure that the sadness in his professor's eyes had been directed towards him. _But I never met the guy! How could that be?, _he asked himself. _You must be imagining stuff. Snap out of it, Lupin._

"You coming down to breakfast?" Lily asked her friend. Remus didn't seem to have heard her at first, but then he nodded, still looking unsettled.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>Harry pulled a few papers towards him and turned his gaze onto them, without really registering what they said. Though perfectly calm on the outside, he was nervous wreck inside. In five minutes, the door of his classroom would open and he would meet his parents for the first time in his life (that he could remember, that is). It was somewhat ironic, as he thought, that he had faced Lord Voldemort seven times with determination but was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when he should teach a few seventeen-year-olds, but that was the way it was. What if they hated him? Could he live with his parents hating him? Or worse, if they didn't acknowledge him at all, if they –<p>

Breathe, Harry, breathe.

Everything would be fine. That was the mantra that he kept repeating, without any real conviction. He glanced at his watch. Two minutes – where had the last three minutes gone? He went over his lesson plan again, mainly to distract the thoughts that were running amok in his head. Introduction. The year plans. And then… the Unforgivables. In his head, it sounded like a good plan, but what if it didn't work? If they –

The door opened (where had the last two minutes gone?) and the Seventh Year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filed in, chatting amiably among each others, most of them not really awake yet. _Well,_ Harry thought, _this class will wake them up, that's for sure._ He scanned the student masses, looking for the people that he craved and yet dreaded to see the most.

There. Dark red hair. Emerald green eyes. _My eyes._ Lily Evans had just entered the room, her bag slung casually over her shoulder. She was chatting with two other girls, a round-faced, kind-looking girl and a slender, tall girl with black hair, but he only had eyes for his mother. She was even more beautiful than he could remember seeing her in the Mirror of Erised or in Snape's memory. Her facial features were kind and soft and her brilliant green eyes sparkled with amusement over something that her companion just told her – wait. Was that Neville's mother? Harry looked at the second of the three girls closely and could see the familiar features of his friend in her face, now that he looked at her closely. She had brown hair that was a little shorter than Lily's and kind, brown eyes that looked innocent and carefree. Harry shuddered – he couldn't imagine her as the living skeleton with the sunken face that he had seen at St. Mungo's. His dreams returned to his mind, but he pushed them back. He couldn't dwell on that now.

As they sat down, he tore his eyes from her – he didn't want to be caught staring at a pupil because that would almost certainly be interpreted in a wrong way, a very wrong way. Instead, he surveyed the other pupils that had entered the room. In some places he could see vaguely familiar features, like a young Marc Goldstein or a young Joanna O'Neill, who would later marry to be Joanna Finnigan. But the people he was really looking for had not sat down yet, in fact, they were nowhere to be seen.

There! They had just entered the room, chatting quietly, but gazing respectfully at Harry. He smiled at them and gestured at their seats, while watching the four of them closely.

James Potter looked just like he would look, had he not changed his appearance. Messy black hair, short, yet athletic build, round glasses. For a fraction of a second Harry thought that, even though he knew that this was his father, he was looking in a mirror. Only when James looked up could Harry see the eyes of his father, which were, unlike his own not emerald green, but hazel brown and full of mischief.

Sirius Black was more handsome than Harry had ever seen him (not counting the Pensieve and the Resurrection Stone experience) – his silky black hair fell elegantly on his shoulders and his gray eyes sparkled with amusement just as those of his friend did. However, the sparkle could not quite mask the coldness and the bitterness these eyes held – probably courtesy to Sirius' childhood at Grimmauld Place, Nr. 12.

Remus Lupin looked lifetimes younger than Harry had ever seen him in flesh, even though it would only be a little more than fifteen years until he would first set his eyes upon him on the Hogwarts Express. All the same, his hair was already greying around his temples. His amber eyes were alert and they were gazing at Harry questioningly. _Shit. _Harry thought. _I need to talk to him – he's probably freaked out from this morning._ Finally, with great distaste of which he hoped that it wasn't visible on his face, he turned his eyes on the fourth Marauder.

Peter Pettigrew looked uncannily like his future self, perhaps to the greatest extent of all the four, though this wasn't anything positive. His back was hunched, his mouse-brown hair was lying flat on his head. He was slightly chubby and his eyes were watery, as though he had been gazing into a bright light for a very long time. Harry slowly shook his head and shifted his gaze from the fourth, hated Marauder. He couldn't do anything against Pettigrew – Voldemort's most pitiful servant had to die in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, choked by his own hand.

"Right." Harry said loudly, distracting himself from the bitter thoughts he had been thinking since his arrival in the past. "You have probably remembered my name from Professor Dumbledore's introduction yesterday, but I will introduce myself once again. My name is Ethan Jameson and I am here to teach you how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts during the following year." Hmmm. Not very peppy. "The Dark Arts are out there, waiting for you. They can strike at any time and in any form. What you are fighting is shapeless, faceless and deadly." He looked around the class and was pleased to see that everyone was gazing at him intently, awe, fear and respect in their eyes. "What I will teach you here might be the only thing that could stand between you killing all of your friends under alien command, excruciating pain or death." Harry saw a few people shiver amongst the class, but most people held his stare, as he pierced everyone with his eyes for a few seconds. "Alright. I just told you three things that could happen to you. These three things that I described represent three curses. Does anyone know, which ones?"

A few hands went up among the students, including Marc Goldstein, Lily, Sirius and a Ravenclaw with long black hair whose name Harry didn't know. He called on her first because he couldn't really fathom how he would react if his parents told him of the curses that would destroy their lives.

"You there in the back – I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Sara, Sir. Sara Hiekel." Harry nodded, memorizing the name. "The first curse you were talking about is the Imperius Curse."

"Correct, Miss Hiekel. Can you tell me what this curse does?"

"It gives the caster the control over the victim."

"Correct in essentials. Ten points to Ravenclaw." Harry said, looking at Sara, who looked confused at what he had said. "However, the control that the caster has is not absolute. The Imperius Curse can be fought, though one needs real strength of character to do so and not everyone is able to do so." He looked around the class and saw many eager faces among the students, as though they were eager that they had the strength to do so. _Well,_ Harry thought, _they would see the next lesson._ "Alright. Anyone know another of the curses that I mentioned?"

Again, Sirius hand shot in the air, just as Alice's did. He called on Sirius, not wanting Alice to talk about the Cruciatus Curse (he thought that that would be the next one, as he had mentioned it as the second curse as well).

"Mr. Black?"

"Sir, there's the Cruciatus Curse. It causes, just as you said, excruciating pain." Harry nodded, shivering slightly.

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor. The Cruciatus Curse causes pain that impossible to imagine or to comprehend. It is a pain beyond anything that can be experienced otherwise. It's like your bones are on fire, white-hot knives piercing every inch of your skin, you head bursting open from the inside." This explanation was met with shocked silence. Looking at their faces, Harry knew that none of them could even begin to understand the pain that the Cruciatus Curse inflicted – too bad that that wouldn't last. He quickly glanced at Alice Smith before looking somewhere. And his eyes found Frank Longbottom sitting in the first row, whom hadn't noticed until now. He pulled his eyes from those brown, penetrating eyes of the quiet boy and, with effort, he began talking again.

"The Cruciatus Curse can be fought as well. Not in a way that it breaks the curse but that you can numb your body against the pain. However, it is extremely hard to do so, far, far harder than breaking the Imperius Curse. But if you succeed in _ignoring, _in _numbing yourself_ against it, the curse won't hurt you nearly as much. Just push the knives that are stabbing into your body out of your mind." Harry grinned mirthlessly as he finished his explanation – he didn't know the reason himself.

"Right." He clapped his hands. "Upon that cheerful note, does anyone know the third curse that I spoke of?" Three hands went into the air this time, albeit hesitantly: Lily, Marc Goldstein and Remus.

"Miss Evans."

"S- Sir, it's the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra."

"Correct. Another ten points to Gryffindor. The name of the curse is pretty self-explanatory. It kills. Instantly. It's impossible to block or counter with conventional magic, so if someone throws it at you, it's dodge or die." Again, most people's expression showed a mixture of awe and disgust. However, Remus brow had furrowed during Harry's last explanation. He slowly raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin?" Harry said, biting himself on the tongue to stop himself from calling the young werewolf by the first name.

"Sir, you said that the Killing Curse could not be countered or blocked by conventional magic. Does that mean there is a defence possible?" Harry sighed – he should have been more careful with what he said.

"Yes, there is. But the odds that you'll ever experience it are next to none." He tried answering it vaguely, but Remus didn't back down.

"But how does it work?"

"Well… have any of you ever heard of the Sacrificial Shield?" Harry gazed around the class, receiving – just as he had expected – only blank looks. Harry sighed. "It's an ancient form of magic – older than the Founders, older than anything traceable – probably as old as time itself. Basically it comes down to this: a person chooses to die for another person, then this person is protected from any curse – even from the Avada Kedavra."

"But Sir, wouldn't that happen quite often then?" The girl sitting next Lily with the long black hair asked.

"Well, Miss – what's your name again?"

"McKinnon, Sir. Marlene McKinnon." Oh right. Now Harry recognized the lively and very attractive young witch from the Order photo that Moody had shown him a few years ago.

"Well, Miss McKinnon, what have to keep in mind is that the person didn't only sacrifice himself for the person in a matter of throwing himself in front of him or hiding the other person behind him, but that had the active choice to live. Only if this person chose to die for the other one, even when offered life, is when this protection comes to work. And that is why it almost never happens – which attacker would give a witness of the attack the chance to walk away instead of murdering him?" Nobody spoke.

"Alright, class. That's it for today. No homework – I'm no fan of it myself, so you probably won't get any in my classes." After a normal lesson, this announcement would have causes loud cheering, but nobody seemed in the mood for that at the moment – nobody even moved. Harry sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to frighten you or anything. But next year, you're outside there and what I just told you could happen to you any second. You need to be prepared. And there's no easy way to do so."

The class filed out of the room in total silence and he waited until the last pupil had left the room before he sat down at the desk and buried his head in his hands, his thoughts haunted by the ghosts of the past that he could not let go again.

"_We died for you." _

Cedric. Dumbledore.

"_You let us die for you."_

Fred. Remus. Tonks.

"_Torn away."_

Sirius. Colin.

"_Ripped away. Ripped apart."_

James. Lily.

"_It's unforgivable."_


	4. When the Night Falls

**A/N: All right, here's chapter four. There's some more angsty stuff here, but also some action. I dedicate this chapter to all my reviewers - you guys rock!**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Chapter 4 –When the Night Falls**

"So, how's it going in the past?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes displaying both concern and incredulity that such a phenomenon – time-travel – was even possible – even though Harry was, clearly, in the past, as she had repeatedly checked.

"It's alright, I guess." Harry shrugged noncommittally. Truth be told, he wasn't alright in the slightest, but he didn't want his friend to worry and he was unsure how he should phrase it anyway, so he didn't say anything at all. However, Hermione hadn't been his friend for more than seven years to be deceived by such a poorly performed lie – something that Harry sensed, which caused him to change the subject hastily.

"How are the others? Ron, Ginny, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna?" Hermione bit her lip, probably innerly debating whether she should press the issue further that Harry wanted to distract from or not. Finally, she sighed and answered his question.

"We're all pretty grand here. Ginny has been offered to play for the Holyhead Harpies – as a reserve, at first, but still."

"Wow!" Harry blurted out. "That's great! I mean, the Holyhead Harpies are the - "

"Right. Harry, no need for that, I've heard it thrice already, from Ginny and Ron." Harry nodded dumbly, still happy for his girlfriend. _The Holyhead Harpies!_ _Her favourite team! She'd be over the moon! To bad that I'm not there to celebrate with her. Oh what I would do with, oh yes, I would –_

"Harry? Are you listening?"

"What? Oh sorry, I zoned out."

"I could see that." Hermione said, her warm brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "You're lucky that Ron didn't see that look." Harry blushed and Hermione giggled.

"And the others?" Harry asked, once again trying to change the topic – not because of emotional pain this time, but because of embarrassment. Hermione shook her head ever so slightly, but she allowed him to get away with it again. He was the Savior of the Wizarding World and of them all, she could cut him some slack, after all.

"Well, the Weasleys are -" Here, she felt a lump forming in her throat. _Fred_. She pushed back her tears and gazed back into the two-way mirror with which she was speaking to Harry. "They are holding up." She said weakly, not even beginning to express the pain that rippled through the red-headed family every second, but Harry understood all too well.

"I know, Hermione. I'm sorry for asking." Harry said, his voice full of concern as he comforted his friend, who shook her head.

"It's – it's hard." She hiccoughed.

"I know." Harry grimaced. "They are there. Every fucking night. The visit me, their faces looking at me, leering at me, tempting. It's -" Harry's voice broke, but he forced himself to carry on. "They are all alive right now, sleeping in the same castle as I am. And I can't change a goddamn thing." Silence followed this, as Hermione scrutinized the disguised eyes of her friend, eyes that were so alien and yet so familiar to her.

"Harry, I…" She faltered. What was she supposed to say? How could she console him?

"I always thought that it sucked that I didn't have any parents, that the people that I cared about were falling like matchsticks. But you know what? I didn't know a damn thing. _This_ is the real torture. Looking into their faces, seeing their carefree eyes, all the while knowing the fate that awaits them. And unable to CHANGE A FUCKING THING!" He screamed the last four words as he tried to shout the iron weight from his chest that had intensified through the whole day. "It's like… it's like Life is showing me how fucked up my life is, was from the start. Life's basically slapping me in the face, saying that this is what I could have had if I hadn't been so damn stupid and unfortunate and whatever. It's like… it's like I'm tied to a wall and I can't move a finger. There's all I ever wanted – love, normalcy, a family – in front of me and I just need to reach out and grab it." Harry's blue eyes were swimming in tears now as his voice dropped to a whisper. "But I can't."

Silence followed Harry's outburst. Hermione had no idea what to say but she felt that she desperately needed to say something – anything. Before Harry killed himself with pain and guilt. But before she could think of anything, Harry spoke up again.

"Hermione, I'm sorry… I mean, this is hard enough for you and I -" He choked on the words that were about to leave his mouth. "- and I just shove this onto you." Hermione shook her head, only in mild exasperation, but that was probably because what Harry had said before had made her sad to an extent that made exasperation to a normal degree impossible.

"It's alright, Harry. I'm there for you." Normally, she would have scolded Harry for being such a guilt-ridden wreck, but she didn't have the heart to do so – not since the Final Battle. Not since she knew what Harry was really feeling – this hollowness inside you that threatened to consume you. As though a part of herself was missing, had been ripped right out of her. She fought back her tears again and tried to arrange her features into a somewhat convincing face.

"Look. This must be harder for you than I can even begin to imagine." She approached the subject cautiously, unsure how Harry would react, but for the time being, he simply remained impassive. "But you always wanted to meet your parents, spend some time with them. Are you going to pass that chance to cry your eyes out in your bedroom and be an emotional wreck?" _Shit. _She thought. _That was way harsher than she had tried to put it._

Harry, however, only grinned weakly. "You're right. As always." He chuckled slightly, along with his bushy-haired friend in 1998. "I won't sit here and mope around about the future. Meeting them was what I always wanted. It'll be hard, but I have to leave the past – the future – whatever – behind." He said the last part pretty much to himself, but Hermione heard it as well. "Thanks, Hermione. What would I do without you?"

"You'd probably be long dead." She chuckled, but Harry could clearly see the concern in her eyes. He just smiled, the weight in his chest lifting a little – it had really helped to simply be able to talk about it. The mirror still in his hand, he went over to the window and looked out into the black skies that were littered by a millions of tiny stars that framed the moon that was just rising over the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts and that illuminated the grass in front of the castle like a giant torchlight. A torchlight in perfect circle form.

It was full moon.

And even from this height, Harry could clearly see a tall figure with a pale face, a hooked nose and greasy hair march straight towards the thrashing extremities of the Whomping Willow.

Severus Snape.

* * *

><p>"Why you are grinning like mad, Pads?" James asked good-naturedly. It was full moon tonight and even though he knew that it was selfish because even though his best friend went through hell twice every full moon night, he couldn't help to look forward to them. He and his friends roaming the Forbidden Forest gave him a sense of freedom that nothing else could even come close to. Save flying, of course. And so, he quite looked forward to the first full moon of the school year when he could finally escape the confines and be free. Be Prongs.<p>

"You remember when Snape attacked us today and sent Wormy to the Hospital Wing by hitting him with a Confundus Charm while he was walking up the stairs, causing him to fall down the whole flight and to break to fingers and his left arm?" James nodded, his blood boiling at the mere thought of the cowardly attack and the face that the Slytherin had made when nobody could prove that it had been him. Upon explaining the situation to McGonagall ('He simply started stumbling. I tried to catch him' – yeah right. – 'but I wasn't quick enough! I didn't do anything! I swear!') and all the while that repulsive smile on his lips, telling them that they couldn't do a goddamn thing against him, James had so badly wanted to knock out every one of his crooked, yellow teeth with his fist.

"Yeah. How should I for- Wait, do you have an idea how to retaliate?" James asked, unable to conceal his eagerness at the thought of humiliating his arch nemesis.

"Oh no. I already have." Sirius face lit up even more, now looking slightly insane and a sense of apprehension filled James as he saw that look. He knew that whenever Sirius had that look on his face that he had completely let the realm of reason behind. And no matter how much he hated Snape, there was a certain boundary that he didn't overstep. Sirius, however…

"What did you do?" He tried to convince himself that it wouldn't be too bad, that Sirius knew to not overstep certain boundaries, but this reasoning sounded hollow to him. Every year, when Sirius returned from the place that he refused to call a home, where he was mistreated and shunned upon by his parents and his brother, his first few pranks were not humiliating, but downright cruel. Every year, he took out all the shit that his parents pumped into him, that his parents revelled in on the house that stood for precisely those ideals – Slytherin. Every callous and scathing comment that his parents made, every torture of an unknown Muggle that had had the bad luck to bump into the members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would continuously build up Sirius' anger. And when he was at Hogwarts, he would lash out – on the very house that his parents had been in and in which they had always prided themselves in. Always. And after what had happened this summer (Sirius had been Cruciated multiple times at home, until he finally turned his back on those sick fucks and take refuge at James' place), James dreaded the consequences of Sirius anger. That he had done something unforgivable.

"It told him how to get under Whomping Willow." Frantically, in shock, James looked up, as though he expected Sirius to be joking or something, but his face showed no mirth whatsoever. Only a wicked smile and cruel, gray eyes, sparkling with insanity.

"You did what?" James knew that he had heard correctly and yet he couldn't have, this was something that Sirius couldn't even consider, no matter when or how or why or –

"It told him how to get into the Shrieking Shack."

"ARE YOU INSANE?" James exploded, his cheeks steadily reddening as he gazed at his fellow Marauder. "Moony will tear him apart! He… He'll hate himself for that! He'll be sent to Azkaban! You sick fucker!" And with these words, James turned around and ran, with only one thought on his mind – _stop him._

Sirius looked after his best mate, slowly realizing what his friend had said – what he had done. The grin slid off his face and he paled, his eyes not twinkling with insanity anymore, but filled with terror. "What the fuck have I DONE?"

* * *

><p>Harry cursed several times quietly as he threw the mirror on the bed – there would be time to explain later – and wrenched open the window. He had no idea that the Willow Incident would happen now, as a matter of a fact, he hadn't had any idea in the slightest when this had happened. When the window was finally open and the cool night air drifted into Harry's rooms, he jumped onto the perch and out of the window, waving his wand in a complicated way as he plummeted towards the hard ground. Nothing happened.<p>

Fuck.

He tried it again, panic slowly building inside of him as the ground drew nearer and nearer. Only about twenty feet above the ground, he completed the incantation, correctly this time. He sighed in relief as he stopped falling and halted in mid-air for a second, only to begin flying over the Hogwarts grounds – rather ironic, seeing that the person that he was out to save would do exactly the same thing in a little more than twenty years. He looked down and saw that he had come too late. Severus Snape had already entered the tunnel and the Willow was raging again.

* * *

><p>James Potter sprinted across the Hogwarts grounds, taking a path that he took every full moon night and that could go in his sleep. He was panting and his side was hurting, but he didn't dare to slow down. He knew perfectly well that it was probably too late now anyway – Moony had probably killed or transformed Snape by now – but however slim the chance might be, he had to try. If not for Snape, then for his friend.<p>

Still running, he scanned the grounds around the Whomping Willow that was thrashing violently all over the place, like it always did, shortly after it awoke again. He felt the tiny ray of hope that he had grow ever so slightly. Still in full stride, he waved his wand and a twig darted through the smashing branches and prodded a knot on the tree. The Willow froze and James, without giving himself a chance to rest, darted into the passage.

* * *

><p><em>What should I do?<em> This was what Harry asked himself repeatedly, after he had just seen Snape enter the Willow. He knew that Snape would make it out of this relatively unscathed – but maybe he had only made it because Harry had intervened? Or had it been the right thing to let things happen? Or should he – At that moment, a thought struck him. He had once talked with Sirius about the Willow Incident, during his stay at Grimmauld Place and Sirius had added a fact that had seemed insignificant to Harry then and probably to Sirius as well.

_Moony didn't attack. He didn't even try to._

The thing that extraordinary about this was that werewolves had heightened senses. Moony would have smelled the edible humans in the passageway a long time before they actually arrived in the shack. And he would have bolted down there and attacked them before they even knew what hit them.

And suddenly, it all fell into piece.

Someone had held him back. Someone had enabled James and Severus to escape from the passageway unharmed by somehow restraining the werewolf from following them, even though he had surely smelled them.

Someone.

Harry.

Cursing again, Harry waved his wand again and zoomed off, across the Forbidden Forest and towards Hogsmeade. While flying, he was prepared to magically alter the wards around Hogwarts, but there was no need to do so – apparently, the wards only people entering, not leaving the castle through the air. _Well, _he thought,_ that made that easier._

As soon as he had passed the wards, Harry turned in the air, his mind focused with all his will-power on the Shrieking Shack. He felt the familiar sensation of being pressed into a tube again, but this time, he was oblivious to the discomfort that he felt – he only hoped that he made it in time. But he had already done so – had he?

* * *

><p>James cursed as he stumbled over various roots or so that were sticking out of the ground of the passageway. He was glad for the first time that he was actually quite short because if he had been as tall as Sirius or Remus were, he would have bumped his head on the ceiling with every step he took. Still, he was unwilling to slow down, even though his hopes that nothing would happen were dimmed with every step that he took. He knew that Moony had such an enhanced sense of smell that he was vaguely wondering why the werewolf wasn't already attacking them. He didn't focus on it, though. He simply stumbled on, oblivious to the various cuts and bruises that he had already acquired on his hands and arms, until he saw the billowing black cloak of his nemesis, who was carefully striding along the tunnel. James exhaled – he had never been and probably would never be this happy to see Severus Snape again. It was high time, though – they were only about a hundred feet from the Shack.<p>

"Snape!" He called out, startling the Slytherin, who had obviously been far to fixed on the path that he was walking along to have noticed the noise that James had made. He turned around to face his nemesis.

"Potter?" Snape sneered with incredulity, a feat that James wouldn't have thought possible beforehand.

"Get back here!" James yelled, panting and clutching his sides. Snape frowned a little. Why would Potter go against what Black had done earlier?

"Why should I?" The Slytherin snarled at the Marauder. James just opened his mouth to speak when the two of them heard a low, wolfish growl travel through the passageway. A growl that James only knew too well and that made Snape pale like nothing James had ever witnessed before.

"A… a werewolf?" He stuttered. "Lupin's a werewolf?"

"Just get out of here!" James cried, his voice almost breaking. When Snape didn't react and only stood there, petrified, the Gryffindor grabbed the thin boy but the arm and pulled him with him, back out of the tunnel, the low growls following the two boys.

* * *

><p>Harry was standing in the Shrieking Shack, his wand pointing at the werewolf that was lying at his feet, encaged in golden light. The amber eyes of the creature bore into Harry with a force that he couldn't possibly describe and even after everything that he had seen before, this made his blood run cold. It was raw and animalistic and yet human, as though two personalities were battling within the creature – needless to say, the animalistic, cruel side had taking fierce control over Moony and forcefully pushed the human side of him back. It was there, but it was like a prisoner in its own body – the raw, sadistic force of the werewolf had brought it to its knees.<p>

All of a sudden, Moony growled and jumped to his feet, scraping his claws on the walls of the cage of light that had enclosed him. Harry saw the cage flicker and added more power into his spell to restrain the young werewolf. As the growl dissipated, Harry heard shouts that echoed along the tunnel into the shack and Moony growled once again, clearly craving the flesh that was a mere hundred yards away from him. Finally, the voices grew diminished slowly and Harry could hear the sound as two people went back through the tunnel as quick as they could, Moony's growls accompanying them as they left.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the werewolf stopped growling and retreated ever so slightly from the wall of the cage. Harry let out a breath that he didn't even know he had been holding and, even though the circumstances were no laughing matter at all, allowed himself a small smile.

He had done it. He had saved them.

Everything was happening just the way it should.

Everything was happening just the way it had happened.


	5. Awakening

**A/N: Okay, here's the next chapter. I'm sorry for the long wait, but I won't bore you with the reasons for it. Suffice to say that I will update once a week from now on. Thanks to everyone who reviewed or put this story on alert - you guys are awesome!**

**weasleyredhair: In this story, Harry has put a concealment charm on himself because he looks to similar to James and that would raise questions. That's why his hair is blond and his eyes are blue.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Chapter 5 – Awakening**

Harry wiped the sweat from his brows, contemplating what to do next. He couldn't be known as the saviour, as the one who had prevented death or lycanthropy of two students, because if he had done so, Remus and Sirius would certainly told him that their DADA teacher – even though they didn't know that it was him, of course – had somehow saved their lives.

Hold on.

Sirius had told him once that he had gotten a 'disappointed-Dumbledore-lecture' for his actions regarding this incident, when Harry had once mentioned the lecture that he had received in second year, for flying the Ford Anglia to school and crashing into the Whomping Willow.

But how did the Headmaster know what had happened?

Of course. He smiled. It all made sense.

Harry raised his wand and conjured a Patronus that darted through the walls of the Shrieking Shack, to the Headmaster's office. He looked at the werewolf at his feet one last time and waved his wand, careful not to meet the beast's eyes. The golden cage flickered and disappeared and Moony immediately tensed his muscles and jumped, precisely at the place where Harry's throat had been, had he not spun on spot and disappeared.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was currently in his office, when a majestic silver stag charged through the door of his office as though it weren't there at all – a Patronus. Before Dumbledore could investigate where it came from, though, the stag opened its mouth and spoke to him, rendering the elder wizard speechless yet again – something that seemed to be happening quite regularly ever since Harry had come to the past. However, at what he heard, he completely forgot the extraordinary magic behind this and whatever, because the message nearly succeeded in turning his blood cold.<p>

"_James Potter and Severus Snape have just entered the Whomping Willow, right after Remus Lupin._"

Without another thought, Albus Dumbledore jumped up from behind his desk and, with astonishing agility, considering his age, which sadly no-one, save his phoenix, would ever see and bolted through the door of his office.

* * *

><p>Panting and covered in dirt and bruises, James Potter and Severus Snape emerged from the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. The moment that they left the tree and emerged onto the open grounds, the Whomping Willow began thrashing its branches at them and they literally dragged themselves out of harm's reach, before collapsing onto the cold grass, literally drained of their energy.<p>

"Lupin's a werewolf." Snape finally could utter. His voice was completely missing his usual sneer that he wore when talking to a Marauder, though that could be because he was simply too exhausted to do – sneering is quite energy-demanding, after all. James simply nodded – he really didn't want to talk to Snape now, but the alternative was going to the common room and talking to Sirius and that was something that he wanted even less. Plus, he wasn't really in a shape to go anywhere at all, so he just lay there on the grass, panting, either oblivious to or deliberately not noticing the fact that he was lying very close to his archenemy.

"Lupin's a werewolf." Snape repeated, the sneer returning to his voice, now that he had regained his breath a little. "And he tried to turn me into one. He'll get in huge trouble for that." Even though James was looking somewhere else, he could hear the glee in the Slytherin's voice and that was enough to make him snap.

"Fuck you." He snarled turning around and meeting the cold and black eyes of Severus Snape with his hazel orbs that were shining with fury and anger. "It's not his fucking fault that he was bitten, is it? So shove your prejudice up your ass." This statement was somewhat hypocritical, coming from James Potter, for he had been prejudiced against everything that was even remotely connected with the Slytherin house from his day at Hogwarts on, but there was nowhere level-headed enough around to point that out. "And he didn't try to turn you – werewolves have no control whatsoever of what they do on full moon, so if you stir up something against him, you'll pay." The fury in his eyes was enough to make Snape feel slightly afraid, even though he didn't show this – only if you were familiar with Severus Snape, you would have seen his sneer quiver ever so slightly for a split second before returning, wider than ever.

"You tried to kill me." Snape hissed at his archenemy who was currently looking at him like he was something unworthy of his notice.

"Kill you?" James snorted. "I saved your greasy hide, in case you didn't notice."

"Yeah. 'Cause if your prank had succeeded, you'd have been expelled for sure. Amusing prank, isn't it, to send someone after a fully-fledged werewolf?" James looked gobsmacked for a second, then his face darkened and his snarl became even more pronounced.

"That wasn't me. Unlike some others, I know that there are certain limits. But why am I telling you this? You won't believe me anyway." James pushed himself from the wet grass and quickly strode across the grass, towards the shadowy silhouette of Hogwarts castle. Only his way, he turned one last time.

"Remember, Snivellus. One word about Remus and you're dead." And with these words, he turned again and resumed his walk towards the castle, just as Albus Dumbledore strode through the doors and onto the grounds.

* * *

><p>Shame and guilt.<p>

That was what Sirius Orion Black was feeling at the moment, at complete loss what to say. James Potter had just returned from the Willow to Sirius, who was sitting in the Common Room. He didn't really know why he hadn't run out there as well, but the realization what his actions had caused had knocked him over. His head had started spinning and he had fainted, disgusted with his actions.

And the moment that James had returned, it had gotten even worse – and he hated himself even more for thinking like that, because – miraculously – nobody had been hurt, but the scathing, disregarding tone that James used when talking with him hurt more than anything else and when he, for the first time since he had realized what he had done, raised his head and looked directly into the piercing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore that were loaded with disappointment, he wished that he could just disappear on the spot.

"Great prank, _Black._" Upon the use of the surname, Sirius flinched like James had hit him. "You're lucky that no one was hurt. Honestly, where's your brain? No, don't answer. I don't think that I can handle hearing your voice." And with another cold, piercing look, James walked past him and up the stairs in the dormitories, without looking back once.

The moment that James had left the room, despite the fact that the Headmaster was watching him, Sirius broke down in front of the fireplace and began to sob.

Dumbledore watched the crying boy for a few seconds, before he walked over to him and kneeled down in front of him.

"Now, now, Sirius." Nothing happened – on the contrary, Sirius' sobbing intensified, if anything. "No doubt that that was a very foolish thing to do, but nobody got hurt." Whether it was because these words really calmed Sirius down – Albus Dumbledore could be very convincing if he wanted to be – or whether he simply had no tears left to cry, Sirius really calmed down and stood up and staggered over to an armchair into which he collapsed, his eyes bloodshot, still hiccoughing slightly, but visibly calmer than he had been half a minute before.

"Now, Sirius. From your attire I know that you regret your actions and that you didn't intend to kill anyone - " At these words, Sirius inwardly cringed, for he did regret that he had given away Remus' secret so flippantly, but there was no regret whatsoever concerning the danger that he had placed Severus Snape in – " – but, as you are probably aware, your actions were very foolish and you are extremely lucky with this outcome." Sirius only nodded once, not trusting himself to speak – he would probably squeak or something.

"Can you tell me why you did this?" Dumbledore inquired, his gaze still fixed on the young Gryffindor. Sirius swallowed once and then he began to tell the story. How the situation had escalated in his home over the holidays, how he had ran away, how Snape had hexed Peter earlier that day and had gotten away without punishment and how that had triggered this response. A long silence followed his speech. Finally, Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, not saying anything.

"Sirius, I'm sorry." The second time, he was more successful with speaking, but he had not succeeded into completely banishing the quiver from his voice, though this time Sirius suspected that it had not been caused by anger, but by sorrow – Dumbledore valued the safety of his students very highly, after all. "However…" Dumbledore swallowed again. "This does not excuse your actions." Sirius nodded – while being empathetic, the Headmaster was also very just and he had not expected that this would in any way lighten the punishment that he felt that he deserved tenfold.

Dumbledore stood up, looking very old all of a sudden. "I really don't want to do this, I… I understand your predicament, it's…" His voice trailed off before he could reveal anything personal. "I must be fair and punish you like I would punish everyone that would try to, even foolhardily, kill another student. 200 points from Gryffindor and three months worth of detention." Sirius swallowed – he hadn't expected anything less, but that didn't make this any easier. However, he maintained his composed exterior and simply nodded once to signal that he had heard what Dumbledore had said.

The Headmaster looked at Sirius once again and then stood up. "Good night. Try to get some sleep. And don't worry about Remus' secret. I've had a talk with Severus Snape and he has, albeit begrudgingly promised to not reveal this." He sighed once again and slowly walked off, across the room, towards the portrait hole.

"My friends will hate me." Sirius had spoken in a broken voice before he could stop himself and he blushed a little when Dumbledore turned once again and looked at him critically, before smiling for the first time since the beginning of this conversation.

"They won't, Sirius. They know what they've got in you." Sirius laughed drily.

"Yeah right. A traitor and a murderer."

"No, Sirius. A person that made a mistake. A grave mistake, that is true, but nevertheless a mistake. And your friends know that. They might not forgive you instantly, but sometime, they will, I'm sure." And with a last, genuine smile Albus Dumbledore swept through the portrait hole, leaving the black-haired teen alone in the common room.

No sooner that the portrait hole had closed behind him, Sirius began sobbing again – he couldn't even say why he did, but he did, even though no tears ever escaped his eyes, he sobbed, lying curled up on the floor of the Common Room.

* * *

><p>This was the position that James Potter found him the next morning. He had gotten up early, before the other years and their year-mate Frank Longbottom, to visit Remus in the hospital wing. For nearly a minute he stared down at the unmoving, curled-up teen with bloodshot eyes. He contemplated waking him – either to talk to him or to slap him over the face, both had its appeal – but he didn't. He wanted to talk to Remus first. He was, after all, the betrayed one and he deserved to know what had happened (werewolves didn't remember what had happened during their transformation, maybe because they were not human during full moon, but beasts) – together, they could decide what to do with Sirius. Because if James had ever needed proof that Sirius regretted his actions, he had found it now, but he didn't want to forgive him just now. He knew that he eventually would, but that would take its time. With one last look at the pitiful form lying in front of him, he turned around and left the room through the door of the room.<p>

* * *

><p>Even though it was still early, Remus Lupin was already awake and propped up in his bed, gingerly sipping the Healing Potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him. Every inch of his body was dully throbbing with pain, but Remus was far too used to this to care anymore – he had been undergoing this torture for more than ten years now, every full moon night. Just as he finished his potion and settled down in his bed again, the door of the Hospital Wing opened and James Potter walked into the room, looking uncharacteristically sombre and mad at the same time.<p>

"Hey James." Remus winced – it always hurt him to speak after a transformation – that had something to do with the process of his vocal chords changing quite drastically, it always left a pain. "Why are you already up?" He looked at the face of his friend and it wasn't carefree as nearly always, but scrunched up and concerned. "What's the problem? And where were you last night?" Even though Remus didn't remember anything of his transformations, he could tell by the damage that he found on himself the next morning whether or not he had been in Animagus company – his friends would always stop him from hurting himself.

_Fuck!_ James inwardly swore. He had totally forgotten to accompany Moony over night. Some friend he was! He sighed at the critical look that the young werewolf gave him and sat down next to his bed. "Sorry, Moony. About yesterday night. A- A lot happened and I kinda… forgot." He finished quite lamely, as both he and Remus thought.

"Forgot? You never forgot before." Remus wasn't criticizing James – he didn't like that he put his friends in danger anyway, but they had always insisted to accompany him and, he had to admit, he had become quite used to their company – which, of course, made the transformations without them even more painful.

James swallowed. "Shit, I don't know where to start." He took a deep breath and let it out slow. Remus, sensing that something was really off, didn't pressure him. "Okay… you don't remember anything from last night, do you?" He couldn't really bring himself to speak of Sirius' betrayal – that would make the situation real to him. But Remus shook his head, completely nonplussed, just as James had expected and yet dreaded.

"I never remember anything. Why should I now?" When James didn't answer, Remus voice became louder and more pushing. "James, what happened last night."

"All right. But you won't like it." He didn't really know whether he said the last part aloud or to himself, but it didn't make a difference anyway. "Okay… you remember what Snape did to Wormtail yesterday?" Remus nodded.

"How could I not? He's just over there, in that bed." James followed his gesture and, sure enough, saw the young, chubby boy sleeping soundly. In his rush to talk to Remus he hadn't noticed the rat Animagus, something that caused him to swear mentally once again. Seriously, _what _kind of friend was he?

"Yeah, well. Anyway, Sirius retaliated. And you know how his pranks are after the holidays."Remus nodded, desperately hoping that this didn't lead in the direction that he thought it was. "Well, and - " Here, James stopped for a moment because he didn't really want to think about what Sirius had experienced over the holidays because that would only make him feel sorry for him and he didn't want that at the moment. "He told- he told Snape to follow you into the Willow."

Silence followed this statement. Finally, in denial, Remus shook his head. "No. He didn't. He would never do that." James smiled weakly – not because there was anything amusing about this topic, but because that would have precisely been his response if someone had told him this story and he had not experienced it.

"But he did. I had to run after Snape. I dragged him out of the passage, but he heard you. Don't worry – Dumbledore made him swear that he would not reveal this and I think that he respects Dumbledore, no matter what a greasy git he is." He added, seeing Remus face pale considerably and him opening his mouth to speak. "Anyway, Dumbledore gave Sirius a lecture and he really seemed to regret what he did – I found him this morning, curled up on the floor of the Common Room. He had been crying all night." Even though James said the last part quietly, Remus heard him perfectly.

After another long and uncomfortable silence, Remus spoke up, his voice now not wincing, but harsh. "Motherfucker. I- I can't forgive this. I will over time. But not now. Not after this." James nodded appreciatively – this was what he would have done – before, without any kind of warning, Remus broke down and started crying freely.


	6. Thy Will Be Done

**A/N: Whoop, another chapter! And only a day after the fifth one, that must be record - for me, at least. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter - the plot starts to thicken around the incident that you have probably all been wondering about, so thanks for bearing with me until now!**

**Okay, what else... Oh yes, Jenna: You asked why Mooney doesnt attack Harry at the end of chapter four. Well the way that I imagined this scene was that Harry had him caged magically and that before Mooney could free himself from this cage and pounce, that Harry had already disappeared. Sorry if that was understood in a wrong way.**

**Oh yes, another very, VERY important thing about this chapter. I AM NOT AGAINST RELIGION, CHRISTIANITY IN PARTICULAR, EVEN THOUGH ONE COULD GET THIS IDEA FROM THIS CHAPTER. I, however, picture some of the characters (Lily, to give this character a name) with this attitude, seeing that she is, just as Hermione, a very rational-thinking person. I regret any provocation that this caused among readers who do actively practice a religion.**

**Okay, I think that that's all, except for the**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Now, with that being said, have fun with:  
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**Chapter 6 – Thy Will Be Done**

Somewhere, far from Hogwarts castle, in a dimly lit room, twenty-two people were sitting around a table in total silence. They all had their gazes trained upon one tall figure, sitting at one end of the polished oak table. The man was wearing a simple black robe with the hood drawn back. He was very pale – one could see every vein underneath his skin – and he had hollow cheeks and matted, black hair. Nevertheless, one would never, if confronted by this man, have the impression that this person was sick or powerless, because despite his unhealthy exterior, he was emanating power like a chill of ice that everyone in the room felt. However, what was most intriguing about his appearance were two things that one could only see on a second look: his facial features were slightly blurred and smeared, as though one was seeing him through a blurry or wet window and his eyes, though incidentally black, had slivers of a piercing, unfriendly red within them. A huge, dark green snake with sparkling eyes was slung casually around his neck, which furthermore emphasized his power. In front of him, a young, handsome man with black silky hair looking at the ground as to not meet his creepy eyes, was kneeling and offering him his left forearm, of which he was carefully scrutinizing every inch of. After what seemed an eternity, the pale man spoke.

"Very well, Regulus." His voice was high and cold and bore more menace than a thousand curses could.

"Y- Yes, my Lord?" The kneeling man said hesitantly, still not raising his head to meet the eyes of his Lord.

"Are you willing to take the Mark?" The pale man asked Regulus, who gulped, but nodded earnestly – not that he really had another choice – had he said no at this point, he would have died on the spot, probably after prolonged Cruciation.

"Good…" The pale man hissed, sounding eerily like his companion. He drew his wand from his robes and moved it in a complex way over Regulus' forearm while muttering an incantation under his breath that no-one in the room, not even Regulus could understand. The moment he had finished Regulus felt a stabbing pain in his left forearm and, judging by the gestures that the rest of the room made, they had felt it as well. When Regulus opened his eyes again, he saw a pitch-black mark on his left forearm that was shaped like a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth – the Dark Mark.

"Very good." The Dark Lord hissed again, almost blending in with the fire that was crackling quietly behind him. "Regulus Arcturus Black, you are now officially part of the Death Eaters. _Crucio!_" He added as if it were a simple afterthought.

Instantly, Regulus was writhing in pain on the floor. His very bones were on fire, red-hot knives were puncturing every inch of his body, his head felt as though it would burst out of the skull any moment. It was unbearable, the worst thing that the sixteen-year-old had ever felt in his life that had – admittedly – been quite comfortable until this moment. But this, this capped everything. The pain so intense that it spread through every fibre of his being, that set every muscle, every part of flesh, every nerve aflame, the pain so intense that he wished for anything – blackout, insanity, death, anything was welcome, if only this would stop, this torture, this –

And just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Regulus was lying on the cold stone floor, the cruel caster standing above him his wand raised. The people around the table were mostly maintaining a stoic silence, though a few of them were snickering lightly. Regulus would have liked to glare at them, to snap at them how _they_ would probably scream under this curse, but he was too weak to even talk.

"That hurts, Black, doesn't it?" His torturer and master had bent down, so that their faces were almost touching. His voice was filled with mock sympathy and the snickering amongst the others increased. "Remember the pain, Black. If you even think of double-crossing me, I'll do things to you that will make you wish for the Cruciatus Curse." Regulus swallowed and nodded once, still trembling a little. "Good. Now that that is settled, Black, take your place next to your dear cousin." Regulus, knowing that it would be best to not dawdle raised himself as quickly as he could and hobbled across the room and took his assigned place between Bellatrix Lestrange (born as Bellatrix Black, daughter of his mother's brother Cygnus) and Evan Rosier, a Slytherin that had graduated three years ago – Regulus and Evan had been on good terms during their time at Hogwarts together and Rosier greeted him with a friendly handshake before becoming serious again.

"Regulus." The high and cold voice snapped Regulus out of his thoughts, concerning the Hogwarts castle. "Now that you have been initiated, I have a first task to you. It is quite difficult, but seeing that you are the only Hogwarts student among the ranks of my Death Eaters, you must complete this task on your own or suffer my… displeasure." Nobody needed to know what that meant – they had observed their master's displeasure being demonstrated on Regulus just a few moments ago. " A high ranking Ministry official is stirring up a lot of trouble. We must somehow cause him to back down from his position. Of course, we could kill him, but this does not guarantee that his successor works in our favour. If we, however, force him to withdraw his candidature to becoming Head Auror directly before the vote, which takes place on the first day of the Winter Holidays at Hogwarts, his opponent, an operative of mine, will almost certainly win and we would have the entire Auror office pretty much under our command. Now, here is what I want you to do: I want you to give us power, give us leverage over this man." His face stretched into an evil and mirthless smile. "His son is currently attending Hogwarts. You are to kidnap him and bring him to me, but bring him alive." Regulus nodded, memorizing everything that could be of importance – he didn't want to mess up his first assignment because that would mean that there would probably not be a second one.

"What is the name of this student, my Lord?" Regulus asked, though he already had an idea whom the Dark Lord was talking about. The answer came in a hiss that was even quieter than any of the hisses beforehand but everyone could understand it perfectly anyway.

"James Potter."

* * *

><p><em>Freak.<em> Lily twitched in her sleep, a voice full of malice resonating in her head. A nagging, shrill voice. _Freak. _It haunted her all day and now, it wouldn't even leave her alone at night. _You're a freak._ Lily rolled over in her sleep once again, muttering something incomprehensible about someone named Petunia. _Freak._ Suddenly, she was sitting bolt upright in her four-poster bed and looked around the silent room, in which three other girls were sleeping in apprehension, as though she was waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows. But of course, there was no-one there.

She sighed and slumped back into her bed, wiping the sweat of her brows. _Of course there's no-one there, stupid._, she reprimanded herself, but her inner voice didn't sound reassured in the slightest. With disdain, she thought back to the holidays, when Petunia, her elder sister had taken a lot of sadistic pleasure in whispering precisely this word into her ears when she was asleep, until she would wake up. _Stupid bitch,_ Lily thought savagely, but again, she didn't sound convinced by her own train of thought. Even though she hated what Petunia did to her, how she acted around her only because of her magical powers, she hated herself even more, for not being able to hate her sister for hating her. No matter what Petunia did to her, what scathing comments she made, how she humiliated her, she would always be her elder sister that she loved dearly. Always.

Too bad that these feelings were not reciprocated in the slightest.

Lily sighed again, running her hand through her red hair, before glancing at her wristwatch lying on a small table, just outside the curtains of her elegant bed. Five twenty-three. She yawned and stood up. She might as well take a shower now, because once Marlene and Dorcas occupied the bathroom, there was no hope in ever getting in there on time for class. Plus, she knew that attempting to go back to sleep was futile and even if she managed, she would only see a bony, thin face looming over her. No thanks, she had had enough of _that_ over the holidays. She shook her head once again, as if to get rid of the mental image that her musings had just conjured in front of her inner eye, she quickly undressed and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Forty-five minutes later, Lily was looking a lot more composed and felt the same – a very long, scalding hot shower could do that to you. She was currently dressed in black shorts and a green top that matched her eyes quite nicely. This was the outfit she wore in the dormitory and outside of class when it was warm and when she went to class, she would simply pull her robes over it. She was reading a textbook on her bed, her eyes flashing at lightning speed across the pages. When she heard someone stir, she raised her head and, sure enough, found the disturbance to be a certain Marlene McKinnon, who was just waking up. She sat up wearily, rubbed her black eyes and then gazed across the dormitory, until her gaze fell upon Lily.<p>

"Morning, Lily." She muttered, still sounding very tired, something that Lily could completely understand – she wasn't a morning person herself and loved to sleep in – when she was not having nightmares, that is. "Why're you already up?"

Lily grimaced. "Nightmares. About a certain horse-face." Marlene grimaced – she, as a close friend of Lily's knew about her stressed relationship with her sister.

"My condolences. That would probably cut my sleep short as well. You okay now?" Lily nodded, not really knowing whether she was okay, but in case she wasn't, what could Marlene do, after all? She could only worry about or pity her and Lily wanted neither option. "What time is it?" Marlene asked her, rubbing her eyes again. Lily glanced at her wristwatch again.

"Ten past six. I'd get into the shower before Dorcas wakes up." She said, glancing over to Dorcas' and Alice's beds, which were still resting in heavy silence. Marlene made a face – probably because that option involved getting up, but she nodded and followed Lily's advice and got up from her bed and undressed, before walking into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>About half an hour later, Marlene was fully dressed as well. Normally, she would take more time than Lily, but, to be fair, she didn't have any nightmares to wash away, Lily conceded, as she put on her robe over her outfit. Once she had finished, she and Marlene left the dormitories and descended into the common room, where an odd sight met their eyes.<p>

Lying in front of the fireplace in the Common Room, curled up in a foetal position, was Sirius Black. Both girls took a double take upon seeing this – they had never seen Sirius this vulnerable. As they slowly approached him out of curiosity, they heard him whimpering softly in his sleep and they saw that the carpet around him was wet – Sirius had been crying.

Marlene bent down over Sirius in order to prod him in the shoulder or something – Lily did not know whether it was to comfort him or to find out what had happened, one could never know with Marlene – but Lily held her back. She didn't know Sirius very well, they had only gotten a little closer during their sixth year, but she definitely knew that it wouldn't help matters, whatever matters were, if they approached him in this wounded state – he would only retreat into himself and they wouldn't be any wiser than before.

"Let him be. He needs some sleep, I think. He won't like being comforted be us anyway and he won't tell us anything as well." Marlene hesitated and gazed down at Sirius sadly and longingly, but after a second, she nodded and turned around to face Lily, her face a little pink.

"Maybe Remus is down at breakfast and he can tell us what's up." She offered. Lily nodded slowly and, with another look at the vulnerable teenager, curled up there, they both left the Common Room to go to breakfast.

* * *

><p>The first surprise awaited the two girls in the Entrance Hall when they looked upon the four jewel-filled glasses that indicated the house points that every house currently had. Yesterday, it had been quite even, with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor slightly before Slytherin and Hufflepuff – it had only been the first day of term, after all. But now, over night, Gryffindor was suddenly nearly two hundred points in the negative.<p>

"What the fuck?" Marlene swore and Lily, far too flabbergasted herself by this development, didn't even mind – indeed, she was half in mind to swear alongside with her friend, before reminding herself that, being Head Girl, she had to be a role model for the younger students - not that there were any present, but still...

"Thank Black for that." A voice behind the girls, coming from the doors to the Great Hall, said dully and yet menacingly, something that Lily wouldn't have thought possible before this incident. She spun around, only to find herself gazing at the second surprise of the morning: James Potter.

_What's going on here? Potter never gets up early. And plus, why would he refer to Sirius in such a scathing tone, using his hatred surname to cap it all?_ Lily was doing some very quick thinking that wasn't amounting to much, however, and she could see by her expression that Marlene was doing the same. "What… Why?" She managed to ask.

"Doesn't have a brain, I swear, that stupid prick." James answered aggressively.

"What happened? Why is he lying in the Gryffindor Common Room, crying his eyes out? And why are you like this? Did you have a row or what?" Marlene asked, trying to make sense of the situation that was slowly unfurling – without much success, of course.

"What happened?" James sneered in a way to rival Snape. "Oh, you know, the usual, he just nearly killed Snape and gave away a secret of Remus' that he swore to protect with everything that's holy to him. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I- what- excuse me?" Lily shrieked.

"He's crying, you say?" James continued, not even regarding Lily's comment. "Poor him. Been thinking about it all night probably. Too bad that he didn't do that beforehand." And without another words, James stalked past them, his hazel eyes sparkling with fury and, no matter how much he tried to push them back, tears as well, leaving the two girls standing there, gobsmacked.

* * *

><p>Lily's and Marlene's confusion didn't abate over breakfast – on the contrary, it only intensified. The more they thought about it, the less sense it made. Of course, Sirius did hate Snape, but kill him? And what did that have to do with a secret that Remus was guarding? An idea was slowly pushing unfurling in Lily's brain, but she pushed it back. <em>No.<em>, she decided. _That's not possible. Seve- Snape was only imagining stuff. Remus can't be a werewolf, could he?_ Marlene, who had been present during the time when Snape had retold the theory of his to Lily had absolutely no idea, but Lily didn't want to tell her just yet, because a good friend though she was, Marlene was also an avid gossip and if anything leaked about this, even if Remus wasn't a werewolf after all – which she strongly suspected, with him being such a nice guy and all that – his reputation could be ruined forever.

_Hold on.,_ Lily thought. _I can prove this theory, can't I? I just have to find out whether or not it was a full moon last night. _Upon thinking this, she pulled the lunar calendar from her bag – luckily, Professor Sinistra had assigned them homework concerning lunar calendars over the holidays so this didn't raise any questions from Marlene – though Lily wasn't sure, whether she noticed it anyway, the way that she was brooding. Lily smiled a little as she looked into the pretty face of her black-haired friend. When she brooded over things, she retreated into a world of her own – she didn't even seem to notice that she was holding a piece of toast in her hand that she had not taken a single bite of yet.

Refocusing her mind on the more serious matters, she opened the lunar calendar to the correct page and looked down on it, a little afraid of what she would find. She swallowed and looked down onto the page.

There.

Black on white.

Yesterday night had been a full moon.

* * *

><p>Harry was standing in front of the Seventh Years of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw once again, his expression sombre but not as downcast and angst-ridden as it had been during his first lesson. It was rather strange, Harry mused, that he had two lessons on two following days with the people that he was dying to see – coincidence? Or Dumbledore again? He smiled – probably the latter, he realized just now.<p>

"Okay. You won't need your books this lesson." Normally, the class, led by the Marauders would have cheered upon hearing this announcement, but for one, the Marauders were still not talking – James and Remus were sitting demonstratively next to each other, ignoring Sirius quite aggressively. Sirius was simply looking down – he had obviously accepted that his friends had turned away from his but the one second that he looked up, Harry could see that his normally carefree face was full of sorrow and regret and his eyes were completely bloodshot. He looked eerily like his Azkaban-haunted future counterpart, Harry surmised sadly. The other part that stopped people from cheering after this announcement were the fresh memories from the lesson they had had only yesterday. Harry looked around the class and sighed upon only seeing faces that were reserved at best. He'd deal with that later, after this lesson, but he needed this for this lesson so it suited him quite well.

"Please all stand up and come to the front of the room." He said. Everyone followed this order, looking a little perplexed all the same. James and Remus were still actively ignoring Sirius and Peter looked very left-out of the whole thing. Unbeknownst to Harry, two other students were watching the Marauders just as intently as he was – Lily and Marlene, still trying to work out what the hell had happened there that could drive such a rift between these boys that had until yesterday been as close as brothers.

"All right." Harry said in a quiet voice which still carried through the room. He waved his wand and the furniture disappeared, leaving the room completely blank. "You're probably all wondering what we will do today. Well, I won't beat around the bush. You'll be experiencing and trying to fight the Imperius Curse this lesson." Needless to say, this proclamation was met with cries of incredulity and shock from over the room, but Harry silenced them with a wave of his hand. "Yes, I am aware of the fact that this is illegal, but that won't stop any criminal from using them and you have to be prepared for them. However, if anyone is unwilling to face this and wants to be hit by surprise after graduation, you may leave this class know." Just as during Harry's own lesson on this topic, nobody moved.

"I will call you to the front and place the curse on you. You are to try to fight the curse in any way that you can think of. But, a word of warning beforehand. This curse is Unforgivable for a reason. For someone who is not able to fight this curse, the loss of control is absolute. Therefore, even if you are willing to practice this, which is a very worthy thing, I assure you, you are under no circumstances to practice this on your own. The will that is forced upon the victim can get out of control very easily and I want nobody here to be playing god." Only the Muggle-borns and half-bloods understood this phrase, but Harry could see that everyone at least got the gist of what he was saying.

"Thy will be done." Lily whispered softly – she didn't know why, but this phrase struck her mind when she heard the professor's description of the curse. It sounded a lot like religion, she surmised. Complete brainwashing. Maybe that was the reason that wizards had no religion – they had the Imperius Curse, after all?

"Well said, Miss Evans." Professor Jamesons words disrupted her train of thought. She blushed, not having realized that he had heard what she had said. "That's exactly the direction it goes." Seeing that everyone except for one Ravenclaw boy were looking confused, Harry decided to proceed to the practical part.

"Let's begin. Black, Sirius." Sirius tore his face from the ground and looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes once again – something that almost caused him to break out into tears. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius stepped forward. Remus and James, as Harry noticed were trying to look disinterested but failing epically in doing so –their curiosity had gotten the better of them. He smiled, then raised his wand.

"_Imperio!_"

**A/N: Ohhhh, cliffhanger! I know I'm evil. You'll find out what happens in the next chapter - I just couldn't resist. Stay tuned!**


	7. Padfoot's Tale

**A/N: Okay, here's the next chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks again to everyone that reviewed or put this story on alert.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.**

**Chapter 7 – Padfoot's Tale**

"_Let's begin. Black, Sirius." Sirius tore his face from the ground and looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes once again – something that almost caused him to break out into tears. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius stepped forward. Remus and James, as Harry noticed were trying to look disinterested but failing epically in doing so –their curiosity had gotten the better of them. He smiled, then raised his wand._

"_Imperio!"_

As Harry cast the Imperius Curse on the younger version of his Godfather, he felt something that he had never encountered before – of course, he wasn't the most experienced caster of said curse, but it still surprised him just as much as it repulsed him. As he forced his will upon Sirius to do a trivial action (do a cartwheel), he noticed that his will wasn't the only commanding voice inside his head. No, lying dormant, but nevertheless controlling the young Animagus, was a high-pitched, ugly voice that Harry knew only too well – it was the voice that he heard every time that he was at Grimmauld Place.

Walburga Black had placed the Imperius Curse upon her own son.

He quickly pushed the bile that was rising in his throat back down while thinking at lightning speed what he could do here. He couldn't let Sirius live under this curse any longer – he had lived ten years under the total control of those that he had despised – it hadn't been an Imperius Curse, but it had felt pretty damn close – and he didn't wish this fate upon anyone else. Now, however, he had to be very careful. If Sirius broke the curse visibly, it would somehow carry around the castle – even in these times of war, it was quite a rare occurrence that a student had been under the Imperius Curse for such a long time without anyone noticing and it would surely be talked about. And the only thing that had to happen was that a Slytherin would pick it up and then Regulus would know of it, and, by extension, his parents as well. No, that didn't work either.

Harry grimaced. He had known, deep down that it would end this way, but he hesitated. This wasn't something that he wanted to do to his godfather, no matter how much he was irked by his callous prank only the night before. But wasn't it for the greater good, after all? With another grimace – he hoped that no-one noticed this, but he couldn't help himself – he forced his will through his wand into the body of the dog Animagus standing in front of him, engulfing into a fierce battle against Walburga Black's will, which he overpowered and expelled from Sirius mind after quite a short time – he would probably have had a harder time if the Imperius had been fresh, but it had been cast about a month ago and Sirius had already begun to unconsciously fight it. As soon as the Imperius Curse of the Black matriarch had been broken, he placed his own curse upon Sirius.

"_Do a cartwheel. Then, pretend that the Imperius Curse has been lifted and go back to the rest of the class. After the lesson is over, come back to the classroom._" Harry could feel Sirius battling against the curse, but he couldn't overcome it – skilled though he was, to throw off the Imperius Curse on his first – no, second try – was a bit beyond Sirius' capabilities. He obediently did the cartwheel and then, as though he was snapping out of a trance, stood up from the floor and dusted off his robes. Nobody cracked a smile at what Sirius had just done – the thought of being subjected to this curse themselves effectively robbed this display of any humour whatsoever.

Harry looked down on the list of the class again. Thirteen pupils left that he had to place under the Imperius Curse will upholding that upon Sirius at the same time. He sighed – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – as he called upon the next person on the list. He was definitely in for an exhausting lesson.

"Okay, that's it for today." Harry said when he had placed the last person under Imperius Curse and had lifted that curse. Only Remus Lupin had been able to even begin to fight the curse, but he too had succumbed under Harry's will after a short battle. "Have a nice day. Until the next lesson, think about your experience under the Imperius Curse and what it felt like. Nothing written, just so that we're able to discuss this next week and everyone is able to say something about it, okay?" The students nodded, except for Sirius, who simply standing there with the other students in an unusually stiff manner. He had been behaving a little off during the whole lesson and Harry knew that that was caused by his Imperius Curse that he had to uphold while placing it upon the other students as well, which was no easy feat. Perhaps, he surmised, it wasn't that bad that the other Marauders were actively ignoring Sirius – they would have discovered this in a heartbeat and it would only complicate matters. They all filed out of the room, without looking back at Sirius once, who was still standing there, though he was looking more like himself again, now that Harry didn't have two Imperus Curses to uphold simultaneously. The moment the classroom was empty, Harry wandlessly locked the room and cast the Muffliato charm upon the door, before steeling himself for the outburst and lifting the Imperius Curse off Sirius.

Sure enough, the outburst followed the moment that Sirius was his own master once again. First, Sirius let out a bloodcurdling scream, followed by a deathly growl. His gray eyes flashed in anger and he raised his wand upon Harry, probably blinded by the rage of being a prisoner in his mind for nearly a month. Harry didn't disarm him, though he could have done so in a heartbeat, but he knew that Sirius needed to vent his rage – he had felt the same thing after finding out that he had been kept in the dark for nearly a year and that it had resulted in a death at the end of his fifth year – ironically, in the death of the person who was at the moment standing in front of him, hell-bent to curse the living daylights out of him. He did pull up a shield charm, however – he knew that Sirius knew some very nasty curses, no doubt due to him being a Black, no matter how much he despised it and he didn't feel the need to be on the receiving end of one of them.

After two or three minutes, Sirius collapsed on the floor, jaded, his power completely spent. "Go on." He hissed. "Put me under the Imperius Curse again, you motherfucker. You're just like them. Like my fucking family. Yeah, it's really brave to control your opponents. Don't want to face them in a duel, do you?" Sirius knew that he wasn't making any sense, that he was speaking childishly and pettily, but he didn't care. It felt so good to finally be the master of your own mind once again that he simply said everything that came to his mind, savouring in the pleasure of being in total control.

At his words, he saw Professor Jameson's face harden and he knew that he was dangerously close to crossing a line, but a reckless rage had gripped Sirius – mostly at his mother, who had kept Sirius under the curse for a month – but since she wasn't there for him to take it out on her, he settled for the second option – blaming the Professor, who wasn't really guiltless either – he had placed him under the Imperius Curse, after all. _Ah, but he released you as well. And he freed you of your mother's curse. He didn't make you do things that you would never even consider while, that make you hate yourself, while forced to stay the bubbly joker on the outside, did he? _A nagging voice, sounding surprisingly like Remus reminded him. He pushed it back – he needed to vent his feelings right now and, frankly, he didn't care whom that hit.

"You motherfucking coward." He spat out. The moment he said that he saw a shadow cross the face of his Professor and he knew that he had now definitely crossed a line. A moment later, it was gone, but replaced by a look of utter disappointment. "I- I'm sorry, Sir."

"No." the Professor retorted. "You aren't. You would never be sorry for that – at least not until you heard my explanation. I did put you under the Imperius Curse, after all, and I expected nothing less from you than to be furious. But can I explain my motives before you attack me again?" He concluded with a wry grin.

Warily, Sirius nodded. The fact that he had indeed placed him under the Imperius Curse but had not made any use whatsoever of it seemed to really suggest that there was more to it. Nevertheless, the young Black stayed wary – perhaps because of his miserable home life, but he never really trusted anyone. The Marauders were the exception for that, but they had proved themselves for six long years, so the case was a bit different with them than with the Professor. But still… a part of Sirius couldn't help but trust the young man, barely older than he himself was, that was gazing into his face with a look that the young Marauder could not identify.

"Well, there's not much to tell." Harry said, grinning at the look on Sirius face, who had probably imagined a very flashy explanation. "I noticed your mother's Imperius Curse on you and I knew that you would somehow react when I took it off you. The problem with that would have been that it would have no doubt carried around the school that you had been under the Imperius Curse and your brother would have found out, and he would probably have informed your mother, who would probably come up with another devilish scheme to control you – I wouldn't put anything past a mother who is capable of doing that to her own son." He added the last part mostly to not appear too omniscient, because that would only raise suspicion, if he knew the horrors of Sirius' home life and what he really felt for his parents and vice-versa in detail. Sirius, however, looked highly sceptical.

"And you're expecting me to believe that?" He raised an eyebrow, but Harry didn't quiver.

"Well, Sirius, I would like to remind you of the fact that I released you from the curse that your mother had put upon you and the one that I had put upon you right after we were alone and no-one else was watching us." Harry pointed out, slightly amused. He knew Sirius well enough that he was only arguing for the sake of show, as not to appear too trusting, but that his reasoning had convinced him already.

"True." Sirius conceded, looking pensive. For a while, nobody said anything, they simply stared at each other in silence. Finally, Sirius got up and nodded once. "I'll get going. Don't worry – I won't tell anyone." He added, heading to the door, but Harry's voice stopped him.

"Wait." Sirius paused in mid-step and turned around slowly.

"What is it, sir? I must really get going to my next lesson."

"No you don't." Harry said, grinning and pointed at the piece of paper that Sirius had dropped while raging – his timetable. "You've got a free period now." Sirius looked at the paper, then at Harry. Slowly, his lips stretched in a wry smile.

"All right. You're good, I'll give you that." He strode back, took the piece of paper from the outstretched hand of his Professor and sat back down. "What is it?" Harry looked slightly uncomfortable in his shoes all of a sudden.

"Why did your mother Imperiuse you?" He blurted out the question before he could stop himself and with this one question, Sirius' face darkened. Harry could almost hear the mental shutters clanging shut.

"How does that concern you?" Sirius answered, a lot harsher than he had intended to. The Professor looked a bit surprised, but quickly calmed down and nodded. "I'm sorry, sir. My family is a sore topic." Harry nodded understandingly.

"I can relate." Harry saw that Sirius didn't believe him in the slightest, so he decided to tell a little bit about himself – he was really curious about the story behind that Imperius Curse and he wanted Sirius to open up to him a little. "I spent the first ten years of my life in the custody of my aunt and uncle who hated magic with every fibre of their being and made sure that I goddamn well knew that because my mother had been murdered when I was one."

Sirius tried to look impassive, but he was having a hard time doing so. His parents had hated him because he actively went against their ideals – Slytherin – which was something that he hated, but to abuse someone for something that they couldn't even control was something even beyond the cruelty that he had experienced at the hands of the people that shared his blood – he refused to call them parents. He, at least, had earned his punishments by active disregard of their orders, something that he was quite proud of, regardless of what they had done to him because of that. His professor's eyes bore into him, holding anguish and sadness that he had never experienced before and this, above everything else, motivated Sirius to speak, to trust his teacher with his story.

"Okay. I'll tell you. But be warned, it's a long story." Harry nodded.

"I'm done with lessons for today – I have all the time I want." He answered, trying not to be too pushy about it. He didn't want Sirius to change his decision again. It wasn't really _what_ he was telling him, Harry realized when he gazed into those gray eyes, it was the fact _that_ he was telling him something – he had thought it impossible to ever talk with his godfather again and yet, there he was doing just that.

"I suppose I have to begin at the beginning." He grinned slightly, knowing that James would most certainly have made a joke about that phrasing, but his grin turned into a frown very quickly when he realized that James was no longer his friend and brother. He shook his head – the story he was about to tell, without really knowing why, was miserable enough in itself, he didn't need any depressing thoughts accompanying that. "I suppose you could call me a pedagogical miracle." Again, he grinned wryly and Harry did so as well, though for different reasons than Sirius thought. "Most people in my family that could have been decent were just so fucked up with all that pureblood superiority shit that they started to believe it for themselves – how could you believe differently if this bullshit was shoved into your brain 24/7?"

"But you don't think that way." Harry helped him, for he saw Sirius face clench in disgust. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to get him to talk, but now, there was no going back.

"No." Sirius confirmed. "I don't know why I don't think that way because that was all I was subjected to for the first eleven years of my life, but I just don't. I never believed that purebloods were better than half-bloods, I never believed Muggle-borns to be scum, I just didn't. Even though everyone around me revelled in that shit, it never sounded convincing to me." Harry nodded – so far, this was nothing new – Sirius future counterpart had told him this much.

"Anyway, I was never one to keep my opinion to myself and this quickly cause my mother to hate me. _Blood-traitor _and _wretched filth-lover_ were among the tamest words that she threw at me instead of using my name. I got used to it, but it still stung. She…" Sirius broke off here, took a deep breath and started again.

"When I came to Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, she hated me even more. This was something that she couldn't cover up. You see, she had hid my opinions well from most part of the family, probably fearing the shame that she would have to suffer if the cousins and other relatives found out that she had produced a _blood-traitor_." He spat out the last two words like the vile things they were and Harry had to restrain himself from nodding approvingly – not that it would have mattered, as Sirius was far too caught up in the story to even notice him. Harry distinctly though that this was the first time that Sirius was telling someone this and that it was doing him good as well.

"As much as I hate her, I can't deny that she's creative." Sirius continued, his voice growing continuously bitter. "Insane, yes, completely deranged, yes, but also highly creative. The punishments that she thought out for me were something that I would rather not go into detail at the moment, but it's suffice to say that they weren't really enjoyable." He shuddered slightly and bile rose again in Harry. Of course, he knew that Sirius hadn't gotten along with his family and that they had not really held back on him, but to hear it like this somehow made it far more real than it had been in the stories that Sirius had told him in the future.

"Things worsened over the years. When they found out that I was friends with Remus, they almost killed me for _befouling the Black name_, as I was constantly told. They ordered me to distance myself from him – my father, to be precise. My mother was so mad that she couldn't form a coherent sentence." He grinned mirthlessly. "In retrospect, it was quite funny to see her standing there, looking as deranged as she was, spouting off words like _ABOMINATION! _or _SHAME OF MY FLESH!_ every few seconds like a broken record." Harry was a little surprised by the Muggle reference, but he then remembered that Sirius had indeed taken Muggle studies – to annoy his mother, of course. "Anyway, that's what my father told me. I spat him in the face and then…" Sirius voice trailed off, but Harry could very well imagine how Orion Black had reacted to this.

"That was last summer. That was pretty bad. But this year, things got out of hand." Sirius stopped at this point, as if unwilling to say more. Harry looked at him questioningly, then he understood with a flash as Sirius' future voice echoed inside his head. _My brother Regulus. Joined the Death Eaters at sixteen._ And even though Harry was pretty sure that his brother and he were no friends, Sirius was still hesitant to sell Regulus out. Harry smiled admiringly and decided to nudge Sirius into the right direction.

"Does it have anything to do with your brother?" He asked quietly. Sirius eyes shot up to him, frantically searching his face, but finding nothing.

"Ho- How do you know?" Sirius croaked. Harry shrugged.

"I don't. I just heard that you and he are pretty much polar opposites and that he was living in pretty bad company, as McGonagall put it. Did he join the Death Eaters?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. Sirius hesitated for a split second, then he nodded.

"Yeah. That's the problem. When they announced that Regulus would soon join the Death Eaters at the dinner table – he wasn't there himself, I don't know where he was – I kind of freaked out a bit. You see, it had always been my parents. And while Regulus was a Slytherin and mother's favourite and all, this still struck me hard. I asked them how they could be so fucking delusional and follow that maniac and that- that caused my parents to snap. Anyway, a fight ensued and my mother finally said that Regulus was finally living up to his name and that I would do so as well, no matter whether I wanted it or not. She and Orion both put me under the Imperius Curse and gave me the order to spy on James – information was always something that they valued highly. James father is a very successful Auror, you know, and politically of extreme importance. I don't know what they plan to do with the information that they get, but I know that it won't be pretty. They probably won't sell it to Voldemort because they hate going into servitude, but still…" Sirius voice trailed off once again.

"The orders that they gave me were simple. I was to behave exactly like I would normally do, but to send them an owl once a month that summarized everything that I had learned. They then told me that the sooner I started the better and that they were sick of seeing me anyway, so they told me to leave the house, go to James, tell him that I had run away from home and stay with him, to gather information directly about his parents, not only by proxy. To be able to play that part convincingly, they took turns in Cruciating me." He voice hardened and he looked Harry into the eye, as if daring him to say something, but Harry was still in a state of total shock. This surpassed everything that he could have ever imagined and he wanted to offer words of comfort, but what could he say? What wouldn't sound hollow and empty? Before he could say something, however, Sirius spoke again.

"The pain of the Cruciatus somehow broke Orion's Imperius. I don't how that really works and, frankly, I'm glad that I don't, but they Cruciated me until I fainted and when I woke up, only my stupid bitch of a mother was controlling me. Not really a nice way of waking up, but better than having my father in there as well." He grinned wryly. "I had been fighting the curse for nearly a month and it has gotten weaker, but it was still controlling me. Until you came along." Sirius grinned again, sincerely this time. "Thanks, I guess."

Harry only nodded, at a complete loss what to say. After a long and awkward silence, Sirius stood up, picked up his bag and headed towards the door. This time, Harry didn't stop him, but Sirius stopped himself, turning around on the threshold of the door that Harry had unlocked just a moment before. "Thanks. Not only for the Imperius, but…" He didn't say anything before leaving the room for good, but Harry understood him.

Harry understood his godfather perfectly.


	8. Author's Note  Abandoned

Due to real life commitments, I have abandoned writing fanfiction. I am therefore putting both of my stories up for adoption. If anyone is interested in taking over one (or both) of them, please send me a message and I will elaborate on the vague plotline that I have already thought of. It does not have to be followed, of course, but there may be someone interested in doing so.

I am truly sorry that it has come to this, but I just don't have the time, now that I am in my final year of schooling. Even if I should return to writing fanfiction after that, I will simply start off with a new story, because I can't see myself continuing these stories after a hiatus of more than a year.

Sorry,

BlackToWhite.


	9. Adoption Notice

This story now has been adopted by Jenny-Cat-Miaow. The story can be found here: s/8484139/1/Back-in-their-Day.


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